Lord Jim

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i

\

Gift of

Prof, Claude M« Simpson

'/ ■

STANFORD

UNIVERSITY

LIBRARIES

qPHIS BOOK, described briefly
below, is submitted for exam-
ination and with a view to its
adoption for class use

TITLE:

LORD JIM

(Educational Edition)

AUTHOR/
Joseph Conrad

suBjEcyr OR grade t

An educational edition for
classroom use.

RETAIL PRICF'

$1.00 I LESS THE USUAL

An opinion of this volume is soli-
cited by the publishers

Doubleday, Doran 6? Company, Inc.

Garden ^-ity^ New York

LORD JIM
JOSEPH CONRAD

LORD JIM

BY

JOSEPH CONRAD

EDUCATIONAL EDITION

GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
DODBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC.

COrriLIGBT, 1899, 1900, BY JOSEPH CONRAD. COPT-
UGBT, 1920^ BY DOUBLBDAY, PAOB ft COMPANY. ALL
BIOKTS BBSBRYBD. PRINTED IN TBB UNITED STATES
AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITT, N. T.

TO

MR. AND MRS. G. F. W. HOPE

WITH GRATEFUL AFFECTION

AFTER MANY YEARS

OF FRIENDSHIP

AUTHOR'S NOTE

When this novel first appeared in book form a
notion got about that I had been bolted away with.
Some reviewers maintained that the work starting
as a short story had got beyond the writer's control.
One or two discovered internal evidence of the fact,
which seemed to amuse them. They pointed out the
limitations of the narrative form. They argued that
no man could have been expected to talk all that
time, and other men to listen so long. It was not,
they said, very credible.

After thinking it over for something like sixteen
years I am not so sure about that. Men have been
known, both in the tropics and in the temperate zone,
to sit up half the night '* swapping yams." This,
however, is but one yam, yet with interruptions
affording some measure of relief; and in r^ard to
the listeners' endurance, the postulate must be ac-
cepted that the story was interesting. It is the neces-
sary preliminary assumption. U I hadn't beUeved
that it was interesting I could never have begun to
write it. As to the mere physical possibility we all
know that some speeches in Parliament have taken
nearer six than three hours in deUvery; whereas
all that part of the book which is Marlow's narrative can
be read through aloud, I should say, in less than three
hours. Besides — ^though I have kept strictly all such
insignificant details out of the tale— we may presume that
there must have been refreshments on that night, a glass
of mineral water of some sort to help the narrator on.

\

viii AUTHOR'S NOTE

But, seriously, the truth of the matter is, that my
first thought was of a short story, concerned only with
the pilgrim ship episode; nothing more. And that
was a Intimate conception. After writmg a few
pages, however, I became for some reason discon-
tented and I laid them aside for a time. I didn't
take them out of the drawer till the late Mr. William
Blackwood suggested I should give something again
to his magazine.

It was only then that I perceived that the pilgrim
ship episode was a good starting-point for a free and
wandering tale; that it was an event, too, which
could conceivably colour the whole '* sentiment of
existence'' in a simple and sensitive character. But
all these preliminary moods and stirrings of spirit
were rather obscure at the time, and they do not
appear clearer to me now after the lapse of so many
years.

The few pages I had laid aside were not without
their weight in the choice of subject. But the whole
was re-written deliberately. When I sat down to it
I knew it would be a long book, though I didn't fore-
see that it would spread itself over thirteen numbers of
"Maga."

I have been asked at times whether this was not
the book of mine I liked best. I am a great foe to
favouritism in public life, in private life, and even in
the delicate relationship of an author to his works. As
a matter of principle I will have no favourites; but
I don't go so far as to feel grieved and annoyed by
the preference some people give to my Lord Jim.
I won't even say that I "fail to understand. . . ."
No! But once I had occasion to be puzzled and
surprised.

A friend of mine returning from Italy had talked

AUTHOR'S NOTE ix

with a lady there who did not like the book. I re-
gretted that, of course, but what siuprised me was
the ground of her dislike. "You know," she said,
'"it is all so morbid."

The pronouncement gave me food for an hour's
anxious thought. Finally I arrived at the conclusion
that, making due allowances for the subject itself
being rather foreign to women's normal sensibilities,
the lady could not have been an Italian. I wonder
whether she was European at all? In any case, no
Latin temperament would have perceived anything
morbid in the acute consciousness of lost honour.
Such a consciousness may be wrong, or it may be
right, or it may be condemned as artificial; andr---^

perhaps, my Jim is not a type of wide commonness^ j

But I can safely assure my readers that he is not
the product of coldly perverted thinking. He's not a
figure of Northern Mists either. One sunny morning
in the commonplace surroundings of an Eastern road-
stead, I saw his form pass by — ^appealing — significant
— under a cloud — ^perfectly silent. Which is as it
should be. It was for me, with all the sympathy
of which I was capable, to seek fit words for his mean-
ing. He was "one of us. J

— -^ 3. C.

June, 1917.

LORD JIM
JOSEPH CONRAD

LORD JIM

CHAPTER ONE

He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, power-
fully built, and he advanced straight at you with a
slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a
fixed from-under stare which made you think of a
charging bull. His voice was deep, loud, and his
manner displayed a kind of dogged self-assertion
which had nothing aggressive in it. It seemed £
necessity, and it was directed apparently as much at
himself as at anybody else. He was spotlessly neat,
apparelled in immaculate white from shoes to hat,
and in the various Eastern ports where he got his hving
as ship-chandler's water-clerk he was very popular.

A water-clerk need not pass aqi examination in
anything under the sun, but he must have Ability
in the abstract and demonstrate it practically. His
work consists in racing under sail, steam, or oars
against other water-clerks for any ship about to
anchor, greeting her captain cheerily, forcing upon
him a card — ^the business card of the ship-chandler —
and on his first visit on shore piloting him firmly but
without ostentation to a vast, cavern-like shop which
is full of things that are eaten and drunk on board
ship; where you can get everything to make her
seaworthy and beautiful, from a set of chain-hooks
for her cable to a book of gold-leaf for the carvings
of her stem; and where her commander is received

8

4 LORD JIM

like a brotliesr by a ship-chandler he has never seen
b^ore. There is a cool parlour, easy-chairs, bottles,
cigars, writing implements, a copy of harbour regu-
lations, and a warmth of welcome that melts the salt
of a three months* passage out of a seaman's heart.
The connection thus begun is kept up, as long as
the ship remains in harbour, by the daily visits of
the water-clerk. To the captain he is faithful like
a friend and attentive like a son, with the patience
of Job, the unselfish devotion of a woman, and the
jollity of a boon companion. Later on the bill is
sent in. It is a beautiful and himiane occupation.
Therefore good water-derks are scarce. When a
water-derk who possesses Ability in the abstract has
also the advantage of having been brought up to the
sea, he is worth ^ his employer a lot of money and
some humouring. Jim had always good wages and
as much humouring as would have bought the fidelity
of a fiend. Nevertheless, with black ingratitude he
would throw up the job suddenly and depart. To
his employers the reasons he gave w^ii^e obviously
inadequate. They said **G>nfounded fool!'' as soon
as his back was turned. This was their criticism on
his exquisite sensibility.

To the white men in the waterside business and to
the captains of ships he was just Jim — ^nothing more.
He had, of course, another name, but he was anxious
that it should not be pronounced. His incognito,
. which had as many holes as a sdeve, was not meant
^ to hide a persontdity but a fact. When the fact
broke through the incognito he would leave suddenly
the seaport where he happened to be at the time
and go to another — ^generally farther east. He kept
to seaports because he was a seaman in exile from,
the sea> and had Ability in the abstract, which is

LORD JIM 5

good for no other work but that of a water-clerk.
He retreated in good order towards the rising sun,
and the fact followed him casually but inevitably.
Thus in the course of years he was known successively
in Bombay, in Calcutta, in Rangoon, in Penang, in
Batavia — and in each of these halting-places was just
Jim the water-clerk. Afterwards, when his keen per -
ception of the Intolerable drove him away for good
fr^seaports and white men, even into the virgin
forest, the Malays of the jungle village, where he had
elected to conceal his deplorable faculty, added a
word to the monosyllable of his incognito. They
caUed him Tuan Jim: as one might say— Lord Jun.

Originally ^^j)Hm^ ^^^ ^ pftrag."**g**i Many com-
manders of 'IBine merchant-ships conie from these
abodes of piety and peace. Jim's father possessed
such certain knowledge of the Unknowable as made
for the righteousness of people in cottages without
disturbing the ease of mind of those whom an im-
erring Providence enables to live in mansions. The
little church on a hill had the mossy greyness of
a rock seen through a ragged screen of leaves. It
had stood there for centuries, but the trees aroimd
probably remembered the laying of the first stone.
Below, the red front of the rectory gleamed with a
warm tint in the midst of grass-plots, flower-beds,
and fir-trees, with an orchard at the back, a paved
stable-yard to the left, and the sloping glass of green-
houses tacked along a wall of bricks. The living had
belonged to the family for generations; but Jim was
one of five sons, and when after a course of light holiday
literature his vocation for the sea had declared itself,
he was sent at once to a ** training-ship for ofBcers of
the mercantile marine."

He learned there a Uttle trigonometry and how

I

J

I

6 LORD JIM

to cross tQ|>-galIant yards. He was generally liked.
He had the third place in navigation and pulled
stroke in the first cutter. Having a steady head
with^an excellent physique, he was very smart aloft.
His station was in the fore-top, and often from there
he looked down, with the contempt of a man destined
to shine in the midst of dangers, at the peaceful multi-
tude of roofs cut in two by the brown tide of the
stream, while scattered on the outskirts of the sur-
rounding plain the factory chimneys rose perpendicular
against a grimy sky, each slender like a pencil, and
Ibelching out smoke like a volcano. He could see the
big ships departing, the broad-beamed ferries con-
stantly on the move, the little boats floating far below
his feet, with the hazy splendour of the sea in the
distance, and the hope of a stirring life in the world
of adventure.

On the lower deck in the babel of two humored
voices he would forget himself, and beforehand live
in his mind the - oea life ot^ligh t htera turg. He saw
himself saving people from sinkmg ships, cutting away
masts in a hurricane, swimming through a surf with a
line; or as a lonely castaway, barefooted and half
naked, walking on imcovered reefs in search of shell-
fish to stave off starvation. He confronted savages
on tropical shores, quelled mutinies on the high seas,
and in a small boat upon the ocean kept up the hearts
of despairing men — ^always an example of devotion to

duty, and as unflinching as ^tJuaptusJ^.b^

"Something's up. Come along.**

He leaped to his feet. The boys were streaming
up the ladders. Above could be heard a great scurry-
ing about and shouting, and when he got through the
hatchway he stood still — ^as if confounded.

It was the dusk of a winter's day. The gale had

LORD JIM 7

freshened since noon, stopping the trafficcb the river
and now blew with the strength of a hurricane m
fitful bursts that boomed like salvoes of great guns
firing over the ocean. The rain slanted in sheets that
flicked and subsided, and between whiles Jim had
threatening glimpses of the timibling tide, the small
craft jumbled and tossing along the shore, the motion-
less buildings in the driving mist, the broad ferry-
boats pitching ponderously at anchor, the vast landing-
stages heaving up and down and smothered in sprays.
The next gust seemed to blow all this away. The
air was full of flying water. There was a flerce pur-.

sern^B gfitera fxuious earnestness in the screech
of tlGewind, in the brutal tumult of earth and sky,
that seemed directed at him, and made him hold Ids
breath in awe. He stood still. It seemed to him he
was whirled around.

He was jostled. *^Man the cutter!" Boys rushed
past him. A coaster running in for shelter had crashed
through a schooner at anchor, and one of the ship's
instructors had seen the accident. A mob of boys
clambered on the rails, clustered round the davits.
*'G>llision. Just ahead of us. Mr. Symons saw it.''
A push made hun stagger against the mizzen-mast,
and he caught hold of a rope. The old training-ship
chained to her moorings quivered all over, bowing gently
head to wind, and with her scanty rigging humming m a
deep bass the breathless song of her youth at sea.
** Lower away!" He saw the boat, manned, drop
swiftly below the rail, and rushed after her. He heard a
splash. **Let go; clear the falls!" He leaned over.
The river alongside seethed in frothy streaks. The
cutter could be seen in the falling darkness under the
spell of tide and wind, that for a moment held her
bound, and tossing abreast of the ship. A yelling

8 LORD JIM

(fvoice in her reached him faintly: ^' Keep stroke, you

liyoung whelps, if you want to save anybody! Keep

If stroke!'* And suddenly she lifted high her bow, and,

leaping with raised oars over a wave, broke the spell

cast upon her by the wind and tide.

^tfiSr felt his shoulder gripped firmly. '*Too late,
youngster." The captain of the ship laid a restrain*
ing hand on that boy, who seemed on the point of

^_ leaping overboard, and Jim looked up with the pain

of conscious defeat in his eyes. The captain smiled
sympathetically. '"Better luck next time. This will
teach you to be smart.*'

A shrill cheer greeted the cutter. She came dancing
back half full of water, and with two exhausted men
washing about on her bottom boards. The tumult
and the menace of wind and sea now appeared very
contemptible to Jim, increasing the regret of his awe at
their inefficient menace. Now he knew what to think

irf^ Tt seemed to him he cared nothing for the gale.

He could affront greater perils. He would do so —

V^ better than anybody. Not » purfipU nf fpj^y wftigjgff .
Nevertheless he brooded apart that evening while the
bowman of the cutter — a boy with a face like a girl's
and big grey eyes — ^was the hero of the lower deck.
Eager questioners crowded round him. He narrated:
'"I just saw his head bobbing, and I dashed my boat-
hook in the water. It caught in his breeches and I
nearly went overboard, as I thought I would, only old
Symons let go the tiller and grabbed my l^s — ^the boat
nearly swamped. Old Symons is a fine old chap. I
don't mind a bit him being grumpy with us. He swore
at me all the time he held my 1^, but that was only
his way of telling me to stick to the boat-hook. Old
Symons is awfully excitable — ^isn't he? No — ^not the
little fair chap — ^the other, the big one with a beard.

LORD JIM 9

When we pulled him in he groaned, *0h, my leg!
oh, my 1^!' and turned up his eyes. Fancy such a
big chap fainting like a girl. Would any of you
fellows faint for a jab with a boat-hook? — ^I wouldn't.
It went into his leg so far." He showed the boat-
hook, which he had carried below for the purpose,
and produced a sensation. *^No, silly! It was not
his flesh that held him — ^his breeches did. Lots of
blood, of course.'*

Jim thought it a pitiful display of vanity. The
gale had ministered to a lieroism as spu rious as it s
own prete nce of terror. He felt angry with the bru-
tal iimiult of earth and sky for taking him unawares
and checking unfairly a- ggnerous readines s fpr "^n^y
_ escap es. Otherwise he was rather glad he had not gone
into th6 cutter, since a lower achievement had served
the turn. He had enlarged his knowledge more than
those who had done the work. When all men flinched,
then — ^he felt sure — ^he alone would know how to deal
with the spiuious menace of wind and s^as. , He knew
what to think of it. Seen dispassionately/ it seemed
contemptible. He could detect no trace of emotion in
himself, and the final effect of a staggering event was
that, unnoticed and apart from the noisy crowd of boys,
he exulted with fresh certitude in his avidity for ad-
venture, and in a sense 6t many-sided courage.

CHAPTER TWO

After two years of training he went to sea, and
entering the regions so well known to his imagina-
tion, found them strangely barren of adventure. He
made many voyages. He knew the magic monotony
of existence between sky and water: he had to bear
the criticism of men, the exactions of the sea, and the
prosaic severity of the daily task that gives bread —
but whose only reward is in the perfect love of the
work. This reward eluded him. Yet he could not
go back, because there is nothing more enticing,
disenchanting, and enslaving than the life at sea.
Besides, his prospects were good. He was gentle-
manly, steady, tractable, with a thorough knowledge
of his duties; and in time, when yet very young, he

!. became chief mate of ^Gne ship, without ever having
tbeen , tested by those events of the sea that show
I in the ligM of day th e inner worth of a m an, the
ledge of his temper, and the ^bre of his stuS; that
I reveal the quality of his resistance and the secret truth
of his pretences, not only to others but also to himself.
Only once in all that time he had again the glimpse
of the earnestness in the anger of the sea. That
truth is not so often made apparent as people might
think. There are many shades in the danger of
adventures and gales, and it is only now and then
that there appears on the face of facts a simster vi-
olence of intention — ^that indefinable something which
forces it upon the mind and the heart of a man, that
this complication of accidents or these elemental

10

LORD JIM 11

furies are coming at him with a purpose of malice, with
a strength beyond control, with an unbridled cruelty
that means to tear out of him his hope and his fear, the
pain of his fatigue and his longing for rest: which means
to smash, to destroy, to annihilate all he has seen/
known, loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is priceless an<
necessary — ^the sunshine, the memories, the future, — \
which means to sweep the whole precious world utterly \ 1
away from his sight by the simple and appalling act. Qfj !
taking his life.

Jim, disabled by a falling spar at the beginning of
a week of which his Scottish captain used to say
afterwards, '^Man! it's a pairfect meeracle to me
how she lived through it!" spent many days stretched
on his back, dazed, battered, hopeless, and tormented
as if at the bottom of an abyss of unrest. He did not
care what the end would be, and in his lucid moments
overvalued his indifference. The danger, when not
seen, has the imperfect vagueness of human thought.
The fear grows shadowy; and Imagination, the enemy of
men, the father of all terrors, unstimulated, sinks to rest
in the dulness of exhausted emotion. / Jim saw nothing
but the disorder of his tossM-eal:^. He lay there
battened down in the midst of a small devastation, and
felt secretly glad he had not to go on deck. But now
and again an uncontrollable rush of anguish would
grip him bodily, make him gasp and writhe under
the blankets, and then the unintelligent brutality
of an existence liable to the agony of such sensations
filled him with a despairing desu-e to escape at any
cost. Then fine weather retmned, and he thought
no more about it.

His lameness, however, persisted, and when the ship
arrived at an Eastern port he had to go to the hospital.
His recovery was slow, and he was left behind.

12 LORD JIM

There were only two other patients in the white
men's ward: the purser of a gunboat, who had broken
his I^ falling down a hatchway; and a kind of railway
contractor from a neighbouring province, afflicted by
some mysterious tropical disease, who held the doctor
for an ass, and indulged in secret debaucheries of patent
medicine which his Tamil servant used to smuggle in
with imwearied devotion. They told each other the
story of their lives, played cards a little, or, yawning and
in pyjamas, lounged through the day in easy-chairs
without saying a word. The hospital stood on a hill,
and a gentle breeze entering through the windows,
always flung wide open, brought into the bare room the
softness of the sky, the languor of the earth, the be-
witching breath of the Eastern waters. There were
perfumes in it, suggestions of infinite repose, the gift of
endless dreams. Jim looked every day over the thickets
of gardens, beyond the roofs of the town, over the fronds
of palms growing on the shore, at that roadstead
which is a thoroughfare to the East, — at the road-
stead dotted by garlanded islets, lighted by festal
sunshine, its ships like toys, its brilliant activity
resembling a holiday pageant, with the eternal serenity
of the Eastern sky overhead and the smiling peace of
the Eastern seas possessing the space as far as the
horizon.

Directly he could walk without a stick, he descended
into the town to look for some opportunity to get home.
Nothing offered just then, and, while waiting, he
associated naturally with the men of his calling in the
port. These were of two kinds. Some, very few and
seen there but seldom, led mysterious lives, had pre-
served an undefaced energy with the temper of buc-
caneers and the eyes of dreamers. They appeared to
live in a crazy maze of plans, hopes, dangers, enterprises.

LORD JIM 13

ahead of civilisation, in the dark places of the sea,
and their death was the only event of their fantastic
existence thatseei^ed to have a ]*!easonable ee^titude Qf
achieyeflient.j The majority were men who, like him-
selfT thrown there by some accident, had remained as
officers of comitry ships. They had now a horror of the
home service, with its harder conditions, severer view of
duty, and the hazard of stormy oceans. They were at-
tmied to the eternal peace of Eastern sky and sea.
They loved short passages, good deck-chairs,, large
native crews, and the distinction of being white. They
shuddered at the thought of hard work, and led pre-
cariously easy lives, always on the verge of dismissal,
always on the verge of engagement, serving Chinamen,
Arabs, half-castes — ^would have served the devil him-
self had he made it easy enough. They talked ever-
lastingly of turns of luck: how So-and-so got charge
of a boat on the coast of China — a soft thing; how this
one had an easy billet in Japan somewhere, and that
one was doing well in the Siamese navy; and in all
they said — ^in their actions, in their looks, in their
persons — could be detected the soft spot, the place of
decay, the determination to lounge safely through
existence.

To Jim that gossiping crowd, viewed as seamen,
seemed at first more unsubstantial than so many
shadows. But at length he found a fascination in
the sight of those men, in their appearance of doing
so well on such a small allowance of danger and toil.
In time, beside the original disdain there grew up
slowly another sentiment; and suddenly, giving up
the idea of going home, he took a berth as chief mate
of the Patna.

The Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills,
lean like a greyhound, and eaten up with rust worse

J

14 LORD JIM

than a condemned water-tank. She was owned by
a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded
by a sort of renegade New South Wales German,
very anxious to ciurse pubKcly his native country,
but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's
victorious policy, brutalised all those he was not
afraid of, and wore a ^^blood-and-iron" air, combined
with a purple nose and a red moustache. After she
had been painted outside and whitewashed inside, eight
hundred pilgrims (more or less) were driven on board of
her as she lay with steam up alongside a wooden jetty.
They streamed aboard over three gangways, they
streamed in urged by faith and the hope of paradise,
they streamed in with a continuous tramp and shuffle
of bare feet, without a word, a murmur, or a look
back; and when clear of confining rails spread on
all sides over the deck, flowed forward and aft, over-
flowed down the yawning hatchways, filled the inner
recesses of the ship — ^like water filling a cistern, like
water flowing into crevices and crannies, Uke water
rising silently even with the rim. Eight hundred men
and women with faith and hopes, with affections and
memories, they had collected there, coming from north
and south and from the outskirts of the East, after
treading the jungle paths, descending the rivers,
coasting in praus along the shallows, crossing in small
canoes from island to island, passing through suffering,
meeting strange sights, beset by strange fears, upheld
by one desire. They came from sohtary huts in the
wQdemess, from populous campongs, from villages
by the sea. At the call of an idea they had left their
forests, their clearings, the protection of their rulers,
their prosperity, their poverty, the surroundings of
their youth and the graves of their fathers. They came
covered with dust, with sweat, with grime, with rags —

/^ <^. jc^i

^C) LORD JIM 15

the strong men at the head of fanuly parties, the lean
old men pressing forward without hope of return;
young boys with fearless eyes glancing curiously, shy
little girls with tumbled long hair; the timid women
muffled up and clasping to their breasts, wrapped in
loose ends of soiled head-cloths, their sleejjingbabies,

j-^f ^y|i/>/^tign^r^iifiL^lgriTpg of aU CXactil^ h^^/ST^ "^^

"Look at dese Qgttl^** said^the'Xrerman skipper to \
his new chief mate.

An Arab, the leader of that pious voyage, came
last. He walked slowly aboard, handsome and grave
m his white gown and large turban. A string of
servants followed, loaded with his luggage; the Paina
cast off and backed away from the wharf.

She was headed between two small islets, crossed
obliquely the anchoring-ground of sailingnships, swung
through half a circle in the shadow of a hill, then
ranged close to a ledge of foaming reefs. The Arab
standing up aft, recited aloud the prayer of travellers
by sea. He invoked the favour of the Most High
upon that journey, implored His blessing on men's toil
and on the secret piuposes of their hearts; the steamer
pounded in the dusk the calm water of the Strait;
and far astern of the pilgrim ship a screw-pile light-
house, planted by unbelievers on a treacherous shoal,
seemed to wink at her its eye of flame, as if in derision
of her errand of faith.

She cleared the Strait, crossed the bay, continued
on her way through the "Oneniegree** passage. She
held on straight for the Red Sea under a serene sky,
under a sky scorching and unclouded, enveloped in
a fulgor of sunshine that killed all thought, oppressed
the heart, withered all impulses of strength and energy.
And under the sinister splendour of that sky the sea,
blue and profound, remained still, without a stir.

le LORD JIM

without a ripple, without a wrinkle — viscous, stagnant,
dead. The Patruiy with a slight hiss, passed over that
plain luminous and smooth, unrolled a black ribbon of
smoke across the sky, left behind her on the water a
white ribbon of foam that vanished at once, like the
phantom of a track drawn upon a lifeless sea by the
phantom of a steamer.

Every morning the sun, as if keeping pace in his
revolutions with the progress of the pilgrimage, emerged
with a silent burst of light exactly at the same distance
astern of the ship, caught up with her at noon, pouring
the concentrated fire of his rays on the pious purposes
of the men, glided past on his descent, and sank myste-
riously into the sea evening after evening, preserving
the same distance ahead of her advancing bows. The
five whites on board lived amidships, isolated from the
human cargo. The awnings covered the deck with a
white roof from stem to stem, and a faint hum, a low
murmur of sad voices, alone revealed the presence of a
crowd of people upon the great blaze of the ocean.
Such were the days, still, hot, heavy, disappearing one
by one into the past, as if falling into an abyss for ever
open in the wake of the ship; and the ship, lonely under
a wisp of smoke, held on her steadfast way black and
smouldering in a luminous immensity, as if scorched by
a fiame fiicked at her from a heaven without pity.

The nights descended on her like a benediction.

CHAPTER THREE

A BiARVELLOUS stillness pervaded the world, and
the stars, together with the serenity of their rays,
seemed to shed upon the earth the assurance of ever-
lasting security. The young moon recurved, and
shining low in the west, was like a slender shaving
thrown up from a bar of gold, and the Arabian Sea,
smooth and cool to the eye like a sheet of ice, ex-
tended its perfect level to the perfect circle of a dark
horizon. The propeller turned without a check, as
though its beat had been part of the scheme of a
safe universe; and on each side of the Patna two
deep folds of water, permanent and sombre on the
unwrinkled shimmer, enclosed within their straight
and diverging ridges a few white swirls of foam burst-
ing in a low hiss, a few wavelets, a few ripples, a few
undulations that, left behind, agitated the surface
of the sea for an instant after the passage of the ship,
subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last into the
circular stillness of water and sky with the black speck
of the moving hull remaining everlastingly in its
cental.

f Jim on the bridge was p^etrated by:^ihe_ great
Certitude of unhojiinded safety afiTl^eace that could
be read on the silent aspeW of nature like the certi-

f tude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness of
a mother's facfT-Below the roof of awnings, sur-

• rendere d t o t^ wisdom of white men and to their
courage, trusting the power of their unbelief and
the iron sheU of then* fire-ship, the pilgrims of an

17

18 LORD JIM

exacting faith slept on mats, on blankets, on bare
planks, on every deck, in all the dark comers, wrapped
in dyed cloths, muffled in soiled rags, with their heads
resting on small bundles, with their faces pressed to bent
forearms: the men, the women, the children; the
old with the yoimg, the decrepit with the lusty — aU
equal before sleep, death's brother.

A draught of air, fanned from forward by the speed
of the ship, passed steadily through the long gloom
between the high bulwarks, swept over the rows of
prone bodies; a few dim flames in globe-lamps were
IjLung short here and there under the ridge-poles, and in
the blurred circles of light thrown down and trembling
slightly to the unceasing vibration of the ship appeared
a chin upturned, two closed eyelids, a dark hand with
silver rings, a meagre limb draped in a torn covering, a
head bent back, a naked foot, a throat bared and
stretched as if offering itself to the knife. The well-
to-do had made for their families shelters with heavy
boxes aud dusty mats; the poor reposed side by side
with all they had on earth tied up in a rag under their
heads; the lone old men slept, with drawn-up legs,
upon their prayer-carpets, with their hands over their
ears and one elbow on each side of the face; a father,
his shoulders up and his knees under his forehead, dozed
dejectedly by a boy who slept on his back with tousled
hair and one arm commandingly extended; a woman
covered from head to foot, like a corpse, with a piece of
white sheeting, had a naked child in the hollow of each
arm; the Arab's belongings, piled right aft, made a
heavy mound of broken outlines, with a cargo-lamp
swung above, and a great confusion of vague forms
behind : gleams of paunchy brass pots, the foot-rest of a
deck-chair, blades of spears, the straight scabbard of an
old sword leaning against a heap of pillows, the spout

LORD JIM 10

of a tin coffee-pot. The patent log on the taffrail
periodically rang a single tinkling stroke for every
mile traversed on an errand of faith. Above the
mass of sleepers a faint and patient sigh at times
floated, the exhalation of a troubled dre^g^and
short metallic clangs bursting out sudSenly^m the
depths of the ship, the harsh scrape of a shovel, the
violent slam of a furnace-door, exploded brutally,
as if the men handling the mysterious things below
had their breasts full of fierce anger: while the slim
high hull of the steamer went on evenly ahead, without
a sway of her bare masts, cleaving continuously the
great calm of the waters under the inaccessible serenity
of the sky.

Jim paced athwart, and his footsteps in the vast
silence were loud to his own ears, as if echoed by the
watchful stars: his eyes roaming about the line of
the horizon, seemed to gaze hungrily into the un-
attainable, and did not see the shadow of the coming
event. The only shadow on the sea was the shadow
of the black smoke pouring heavily from the funnel
its immense streamer, whose end was constantly
dissolving in the air. Two Malays, silent and almost
motionless, steered, one on each side of the wheel,
whose brass rim shone f ragmentarily in the oval of
light thrown out by the binnacle. Now and then
a hand, with black fingers alternately letting go and
catching hold of revolving spokes, appeared in the
illiunined part; the links of wheel-chains ground
heavily in the grooves of the barrd. Jim would glance
at the compass, would glance around the unattainable
horizon, would stretch himself till his joints cracked
with a leisurely twist of the body, in the very excess of
well-being; and, as if made audacious by the invincible
aspect of the peace, he felt he cared for nothing that

20 LORD JIM

could happen to him to the end of his days. From time
to time he glanced idly at a chart pegged out with four
drawing-pins on a low three-legged table abaft the steer-
ing-gear case. The sheet of paper portraying the depths
of the sea presented a shiny surface under the light of
a bull's-eye lamp lashed to a stanchion, a surface as
level and smooth as the glimmering surface of the
waters. Parallel rulers with a pair of dividers reposed
on it; the ship's position at last noon was marked
with a small black cross, and the straight pencil-line
drawn firmly as far as Ferim figured the course of the
ship — the path of souls towards the holy place, the
promise of Salvation, the reward of eternal life — ^while
the pencil with its sharp end touching the Somali coast
lay round and still like a naked sUp's spar floating
in the pool of a sbcltieredMij^jck^y'^ow steady she
goes,*V thought Jim with wonder, with something
like gratitude for this high peace of sea and sky.
At such times his thoughts would be full of valorous
deeds: he loved these dreams and the success of his
i imaginary achievements. They were the best parts
of life, its secret truth, its hidden reality v They had
-ar-^orgeous virility, the charm of vagueness, they
passed before him with a heroic tread; they carried
his soul away with them and made it drunk with
the divine philtre of an unbounded confidence in itself.
There was nothing he could not face. He was so
pleased with the idea that he smiled, keeping per-
functorily his eyes ahead; and when he happened
to glance back he saw the white streak of the wake
drawn as straight by the ship's keel upon the sea
as the black line drawn by the pencil upon the chart.
The ash-buckets racketed, clanking up and down
the stoke-hold ventilators, and this tin-pot clatter
warned him the end of his watch was near. He

L

LORD JIM 21

sighed with content, with regret as weU at having
to part from that serenity which fostered the ad-
venturous freedom of his thoughts. He was a little
sleepy, too, and felt a pleasurable languor running
through every limb as though all the blood in his
body had turned to warm milk, ffin nVippttr hnd
come up noiselessly, in pyjamas and with his sleep-
ing-jacket flimg wide open. Red of face, only half
awake, the left eye partly closed, the right staring
stupid and glassy, he hung his big head over the
ctkart and scratched his ribs sleepily. There was
something obscene in the sight of his naked flesh.
His bared breast glistened soft and greasy as though
he had sweated out his fat in his sleep. He pronoimced
a professional remark in a voice harsh and dead, re-
sembling the rasping sound of a wood-file on the edge
of a plank; the fold of his double chin hung like a bag
triced up close under the hinge of his jaw. Jim started,
and his answer was full of deference biil the odious and
fleshy figure, as though seen for the first time in a re-
vealing moment, fixfid itsplljn his memoiy ior..ever as
the incarnation of eveiythmg yII^ an^ that lurks

in the World we love: in our own hearts we trust for ou r
sa lvation in the men that surround us , in tibe sights that

^ur eyes, m tne sounds that liil our ears, and in the I
air that fills our limgs. N ^

The thin gold shaving of the moon floating slowly \ "^ ^
downwards had lost itself on the darkened surface of
the waters, and the eternity beyond the sky seemed
to come down nearer to the earth, with the augmented
glitter of the stars, with the more profound sombre-
ness in the lustre of the half -transparent dome cover-
ing the flat disc of an opaque sea. The ship moved
so smoothly that her onward motion was imper-
ceptible to the senses of men, as though she had been

', v^-.

■*■ I

•-*; /J-*.

(

22 LORD JIM

a crowded planet speeding through the dark spaces of
ether behmd the swarm of suns» in the appalling and
calm solitudes awaiting the breath of future creations.
"Hot is no name for it down below," said a voice.

Jim smiled without looking round. The skipper
presented an immoved breadth of back: it was the
renegade's trick to appear pointedly imaware of your
existence imless it suited his purpose to turn at you
with a devouring glare before he let loose a torrent
of foamy, abusive jargon that came like a gush from
a sewer. Now he emitted only a sulky grunt; the
second engineer at the head of the bridge-ladder,
kneading with damp palms a dirty sweat-rag, un-
abashed, continued the tale of his complaints. The
sailors had a good time of it up here, and what was
the use of them in the world he would be blowed if
he could see. The poor devils of engineers had to
get the ship along anyhow, and they could very well

do the rest too; by gosh they "Shut up" growled

the German stolidly. "Oh yes! Shut up — and when
anything goes wrong you fly to us, don't you?" went on
the other. He was more than half cooked, he expected;
but anyway, now, he did not mind how much he sinned,
because these last three days he had passed through a
fine course of training for the place where the bad boys
go when they die — ^b'gosh, he had — ^besides being made
jolly well deaf by the blasted racket below. The
dumed, compound, surface-condensing, rotten scrap-
heap rattled and banged down there like an old deck-
winch, only more so; and what made him risk his
life every night and day that God made amongst
the refuse of a breaking-up yard flying round at fifty-
seven revolutions, was more than he could tell. He
must have been bom reckless, b'gosh. He . . .
•• Where did you get drink? " inquired the German, very

LORD JIM 23

savage, but motionless in the light of the binnacle,
like a clumsy effigy of a man cut out of a block of fat.
Jim went on smiling at the retreating horizon; his heart
was full of generous impulses, and his thought was
contemplating his own superiority. "" Drink ! " repeated
the engineer with amiable scorn : he was hanging on with
both hands to the rail, a shadowy figure with flexible
legs. "Not from you, captain. You're far too mean,
b'gosh. You would let a good man die sooner than
give him a drop of shnaps. That's what you Germans
call economy. Penny wise, pound foolish.*' He be-
came sentimental. The chief had given him a four-
finger nip about ten o'clock — "only one, s'elp me!" —
good old chief; but as to getting the old fraud out of his
bunk — ^a five-ton crane couldn't do it. Not it. Not
to-night anyhow. He was sleeping sweetly like a little
chad, with a bottie of prime brandy under his pillow.
From the thick throat of the commander of the Patna
came a low rumble, on which the sound of the word
schwein fiuttered high and low like a capricious feather
in a faint stir of air. He and the chief engineer had been
cronies for a good few years — ^serving the same jovial,
crafty, old Chinaman, with horn-rimmed goggles and
strings of red silk plaited into the venerable grey hairs
of his pigtail. The quay-side opinion in the Patna^s
home-port was that these two in the way of brazen
peculation "had done together pretty well everything
you can think of." Outwardly ihey were badly
matched: one dull-eyed, malevolent, and of soft fieshy
curves; the other lean, all hollows, with a head long and
bony like the head of an old horse, with sunken cheeks,
with sunken temples, with an indifferent glazed glance
of sunken eyes. He had been stranded out East some-
where — in Canton, in Shanghai, or perhaps in Yoko-
hama; he probably did not care to remember himself the

24 LORD JIM

exact locality, nor yet the cause of his shipwreck.
He had been, in mercy to his youth, kicked quietly
out of his ship twenty years ago or more, and it might
have been so much worse for him that the memory of
the episode had in it hardly a trace of misfortune.
Then, steam navigation expanding in these seas and
men of his craft being scarce at first, he had "got on"
after a sort. He was eager to let strangers know in
a dismal mumble that he was "an old stager out
here." When he moved a skeleton seemed to sway
loose in his clothes; his walk was mere wandering,
and he was given to wander thus around the engine-
room skylight, smoking, without relish, doctored
tobacco in a brass bowl at the end of a cherrywood
stem four feet long, with the imbecile gravity of a
thinker evolving a system of philosophy from the
hazy glimpse of a truth. He was usually anything
"blit f ree with his private store of Uquor; but on that
night he had departed from his principles, so that
his second, a weak-headed child of Wapping, what
with the unexpectedness of the treat and the strength
of the stuff, had become very happy, cheeky, and
talkative. The fury of the New South Wales Ger-
man was extreme; he puffed like an exhaust-pipe,
and Jim, faintly amused by the scene, was impatient
for the time when he could get below: the last ten
minutes of the watch were irritating like a gun that
hangs fire; those men did not belong to the world
of heroic adventure; they weren't bad chaps though.
Even the skipper himself . . . His gorge rose at
the mass of panting flesh from which issued gurgling
mutters, a cloudy trickle of filthy expressions; but
he was too pleasurably languid to dislike actively
this or any other thing. The quaUty of these men
did not matter; he rubbed shoulders with them, but

LORD JIM 25

they could notJtQuch him; he shared the air they
breathed, but /he^5?ks differ enj^-^. • . Would the
skipper go for tEeeni^neer?''**^ . . The life wa^ easy
ftnd he wafl ti;K) sure nf himsplf — ^too sure of hiinseli(^to
. . . The line dividing his meditation from a surrep. /
titious doze on his feet was thinner than a thread in /
a spider's web. " '--^

The second engineer was coming by easy transi-
tions to the consideration of his finances and of his
courage.

"Who's drunk? I? No, no, captain! That won't
do. You ought to know by this time the chief ain't
free-hearted enough to make a sparrow dnmk, b'gosh.
I've never been the worse for liquor in my life; the
stuff ain't made yet that would make me drunk. I
could drink liquid fire against your whisky peg for peg,
b'gosh, and keep as cool as a cucumber. If I thought I
was drunk I would jump overboard — do away with
myself, b'gosh. I would! Straight! And I won't go
off the bridge. Where do you expect me to take the air
on a night like this, eh? On deck amongst that vermin
down there? Likely — ^ain't it! And I am not afraid
of anything you can do."

The German lifted two heavy fists to heaven and
shook them a little without a word.

."I dea'J; fepow what fear is," pursued the engineer,
with the enthusiasm of sincere conviction. "I am
not afraid of doing all the bloomin' work in this rot-
ten hooker, b'gosh! And a jolly good thing for you
that there are some of us about the world that aren't
afraid of their lives, or where would you be — ^you and
this old thing here with her plates like brown paper —
brown paper, s'elp me? It's all very fine for you —
you get a power of pieces out of her one way and
another; but what about me — what do I get? A

26 LORD JIM

measly hundred and fifty dollars a month and find
yourself. I wish to ask you respectfully — ^respectfully,
mind — ^who wouldn't chuck a dratted job like this?
'Tain't safe, s'elp me, it ain't! Only I am one of them
fearless fellows. . . .*'

He let go the rail and made ample gestures as if
demonstrating in the air the shape and extent of his
valour; his thin voice darted in prolonged squeaks
upon the sea, he tiptoed back and forth for the better
emphasis of utterance, and suddenly pitched down
head-first as though he had been clubbed from behind.
He said ^^Damn!" as he tumbled; an instant of silence
followed upon his screeching: Jim and the skipper
staggered forward by common accord, and catching
themselves up, stood very stiff and still gazing, amazed,
at the imdisturbed level of the sea. Then they looked
upwards at the stars.

What had happened? The wheezy thump of the
engines went on. Had the earth been checked in
her course? They could not understand; and sud-
denly the calm sea, the sky without a cloud, appeared
formidably insecure m their immobiUty, a^ if poised
on the brow of yawning destruction. The engineer
rebounded vertically full length and collapsed again
into a vague heap. This heap said "What's that?"
in the muffled accents of profound grief. A faint noise
as of thunder, of thunder infinitely remote, less than a
sound, hardly more than a vibration, passed slowly,
and the ship quivered in response, as if the thunder
had growled deep down in the water. The eyes of the
two Malays at the wheel glittered towards the white
men, but their dark hands remained closed on the
spokes. The sharp hull driving on its way seemed to
rise a few inches in succession through its whole length,
as though it had become pliable, and settled down

LORD JIM 27

again rigidly to its work of cleaving the smooth surface
of the sea. Its quivering stopped, and the faint noise
of thunder ceased all at once, as though the ship had
steamed across a narrow belt of vibrating water and
of humming air.

CHAPTER FOUR

A MONTH or so afterwards, when Jim, in answer
to pointed questions, tried to tell honestly the truth
of this experience, he said, speaking of the ship: ^'She
went over whatever it was as easy as a snake crawling
over a stick. " The illustration was good : the questions
were aimmg at facts, and the official Inquiry was being
held in the police court of an Eastern port. He stood
elevated in the witness-box, with burning cheeks in a
cool lofty room: the big framework of pimkahs moved
gently to and fro high above his head, and from below
many eyes were looking at him out of dark faces, out of
white faces, out of red faces, out of faces attentive,
spellbound, as if all these people sitting in orderly rows
upon narrow benches had been enslaved by the fascina-
tion of his voice. It was very loud, it rang startling in
his own ears, it was the only sound audible in the world,
for the terribly distinct questions that extorted his
answers seemed to shape themselves m anguish and
pain within his breast, — came to him poignant and
silent like the terrible questioning of one's conscience.
Outside the court the sun blazed — within was the wind
of great punkahs that made you shiver, the shame
that made you bmn, the attentive eyes whose glance
stabbed. The face of the presiding magistrate, clean
shaved and impassible, looked at him deadly pale
between the red faces of the two nautical assessors.
The light of a broad window under the ceiling fell from
above on the heads and shoulders of the three men,
and they were fiercely distinct in the half-light of the

LORD JIM 29

big court-room where the audience seemed composed
of staring shadows. They wanted facts. Facts! They
demanded facts from him, as if facts could explain
anything!

"After you had concluded you had collided with
something floating awash, say a water-logged wreck,
you were ordered by your captain to go forward and
ascertain if there was any damage done. Did you
think it likely from the force of the blow?'* asked
the assessor sitting to the left. He had a thin horse-
shoe beard, salient cheek-bones and with both elbows
on the desk clasped his rugged hands before his face,
looking at Jim with thoughtful blue eyes; the other,
a heavy, scornful man, thrown back m his seat, his
left arm extended full length, drummed delicately with
his finger-tips on a blotting-pad: in the middle the
magistrate upright in the roomy arm-chair, his head
inclined slightly on the shoulder, had his arms crossed
on his breast and a few flowers in a glass vase by the
side of his inkstand.

"I did not," said Jim. "I was told to call no one
and to mflkfcjo noise foy.Jmr of ^^^^ting b PiOnic*
"Ithought the precaution reasonable. I took one
of the lamps that were hung under the awnings and
went forward. After opening the forepeak hatch I
heard splashing in there. I lowered then the lamp
the whole drift of its lanyard, and saw that the fore-
peak was more than half full of water already. I
knew then there must be a big hole below the water-
line."- He paused.

"Yes," said the big assessor, with a dreamy smile
at the blotting-pad; his fingers played incesssantly,
touching the paper without noise.

"I did not think of danger just then. I might have
been a little startled: all this happened in such a

, /U-r-

30 LORD JIM

quiet way and so very suddenly. I knew there was
no other bulkhead in the ship but the collision bulkhead
separating the forepeak from the forehold. I went back
to tell the captain. I came upon the second engineer
getting up at the foot of the bridge-ladder: he seemed
dazed, and told me he thought his left arm was broken;
he had slipped oi) M^e top step when getting down while
I wasioFwaiid. jHe exclaimed, *My God! That rotten
bulkhead '11 give way in a minute, and the damned thing
will go down under us like a lump of lead.' He pushed
me away with his right arm and ran before me up the
ladder, shouting as he climbed. His left arm himg by
his side. I followed up in time to see the captain rush
at him and knock him down flat on his back. He did
not strike him again: he stood bending over him and
speaking angrily but quite low. I fancy he was
asking him why the devil he didn't go and stop the
engines, instead of making a row about it on deck.
I heard him say, *Get up! Run! fly!' He swore
also. The engineer slid down the starboard ladder and
bolted round the skylight to the engine-room com-
panion which was on the port-side. He moaned as
he ran.

He spoke slowly; he remembered swiftly and with
extreme vividness; he could have reproduced like an
echo the moaning of the engineer for the better in-
formation of these men who wanted facts. After his
first feeling of revolt he had come roimd to the view
ith^t only a meticulous precision of statement would
Ibring out the true horror behind the appalling face
of things. The facts those men were so eager to
kri6w had been visible, tangible, open to the senses,
occupying their place in space and time, requiring
for their existence a fourteen-himdred-ton steamer
and twenty-seven minutes by the watch; they made

LORD JIM 31

a whole that had features, shades of expression, a
complicated aspect that could be remembered by
the eye, and something else besides, something in-
visible, a directing spirit of perdition that dwelt
within, like a malevolent soul in a detestable body.
He was anxious to make this clear. This had not
been a common affair, everything in it had been
of the utmost importance, and fortunately he re-
membered everything. He wanted to go on talking
for truth's sake, perhaps for his own sake also;, and
while his utterance was deUberate>"his mind positively
flew roimd and roimd the serried circle of facts that
had surged up all about him to cut him off from the
rest of his kind: it was like a creatiu'e that, finding
itself imprisoned within an enclosure of high stakes,
dashes roimd and round, distracted in the night, trying
to find a weak spot, a crevice, a place to scale, some
opening through which it may squeeze itself and escape.
< This awful aativity. gf mind made him hesitate at times
in his speech. • • •

"The captain kept on moving here and there on
the bridge; he seemed calm enough, only he stumbled
several times; and once as I stood speaking to him
he walked right into me as though he had been stone-
blind. He made no definite answer to what I had to
tell. He mumbled to himself; all I heard of it were
a few words that sounded like ^confounded steam!*
and ^infernal steam!' — something about steam. I
thought . . ."

He w as bgcoming irrelevant; a question to the
point cut short his speech, like a pang of pain, and
he felt extremely discoiu*aged and weary. He was
coming to that, he was coming to that — ^and now,
checked brutally, he had to answer by yes or no.
He answered truthfully by a curt "Yes, I did"; and

32 LORD JIM

fair of face, big of frame, with young, gloomy eyes,
he held his shoulders upright above the box whiler
his soul writhed within him. He was made to answer
another question so much to the point and so useless,
then waited again. His mouth was tastelessly dry,
as though he had been eating dust, then salt and bitter
as after a drink of sea-water. He wiped his damp
forehead, passed his tongue over parched lips, felt a
shiver run down his back. The big assessor had
dropped his eyeUds, and drummed on without a sound,
careless and mournful; the eyes of the other above
the sunburnt, clasped fingers seemed to glow with
kindliness; the magistrate had swayed forward; his
pale face hovered near the flowers, and then dropping
sideways over the arm of his chair, he rested his temple
in the palm of his hand. The wind of the punkahs
eddied down on the heads, on the dark-faced natives
wound about in voluminous draperies, on the Europeans
sitting together very hot and m drill suits that seemed
to fit them as close as their skins, and holding their
round pith hats on their knees; while gliding along
the walls the court peons, buttoned tight in long
white coats, flitted rapidly to and fro, running on
bare toes, red-sashed, red tiu-ban on head, as noiseless
as ghosts, and on the alert like so many retrievers.

Jim la eyes, w andering in the intervals of his an-
swers, re sted upoii p ^hj^ft mfl.n ^]jo fiAj ypart. JrQga
f]je p lh^^ i 'L.wif^ his face worn and clouded, fiiit with
jguiet eyes that glanced straight, interested and clear.
Jim answered another question and was tempted to
cry out, "What's the good of this! what's the good!"
He tapped with his foot slightly, bit his lip, and looked
away over the heads. He met the eyes of the white
man. The glance directed at him was not the fasci-
nated stare of the others. It was an act of intelligent

! /

.-^J

LORD JIM 33

volition. Jim between two questions forgot himself so
far as to find leisure for a thought. This fellow — ^ran
the thought — ^looks at me as though he could see some-
body or something past my shoulder. He had come
across that man before — ^in the street perhaps. He was
positive he had never spoken to him. For days, for
many days, he had spoken to no one, but had held
silent, incoherent, and endless converse with himself,
like a prisoner alone in his cell or like a wayfar^ lost in
a wilderness. At present he was answering questions
that did not matter though they had a purpose, but
he doubted whether he would ever again speak out
as long as he hxed/ The "sound of his'own truthful
statements confirmed his deUberate opinion that

^p ^^h w^*^ ^f ^^ ""» ^ '^ '^^'^ »^^r Innff a r That man
there seemed to be aware of his hopeless diflSculty,
Jim looked at him, then turned away resolutely, as
after a final parting.

And later on, many times, in distant parts of the ^^
world, M^rl^y ffhffTTfi^ liiT^|qf^lf willing to remembfer "j
^m, to remember him a t length, in detai l and audibi yT

rerhaps it would be flf IfiP dinh^)-, on a verandaJb ..
draped in motionless foliage and crowned with flowers,
in the deep dusk speckled by fiery cigar-ends. The
elongated bulk of each cane-chair harboiu'ed a silent
listener. Now and then a small red glow would
move abruptly, and expanding light up the fingers
of a languid hand, part of a face in profound repose,
or flash a crimson gleam into a pair of pensive eyes
overshadowed by a fragment of an imrufiled fore-
head; and with the very first word uttered Marlow's
body, extended at rest in the seat, would become
very still, as though his spirit had winged its way
back into the lapse of time and were speaking through
his lips from the past.

CHAPTER FIVE

n^YES^I attended tl^^ inguiry," he wouldjay,
and to tB^day I haven't left off^^JKOod^nglin ^
I went./ I am willmg to believe each of us has a
guardian angel, if you fellows will concede to me that
each of us has a familiar devil as well. I want you
to own up, because I don't like to feel exceptional in
any way, and I know I have him — ^tlje devil, I mean.
I haven't seen him, of coiuse, but I go upon circum-
stantial evidence, -fie is there right enough, and,
being malicious, he lets me in for that kind oi thing.
What kind of thing, you ask? Why» the inquiT}T thing,.
the yellow-dog tlung — you wouldn't think a mangy,
native tyke would be allowed to trip up people in
the verandah of a magistrate's court, would you? —
the kind of thing that by devious, imexpected, Ixuly
di aboKca Ljyays-oau ses nie to run up against men wi th
fH^^ spots, w ith hard spots, witb^ hiddep plctgue spots,
by Jover and loosens their tongues at the sight of me
for their infernal confidences; as though, forsooth, I
had no confidences to make to myself, as though — God
help me! — ^I didn't have enough confidential informa-
tion about myself to harrow my own soul till the end of
my appointed time. And what I have done to be
thus favoured I want to know. I declare I am as
full of my own concerns as the next man, and I have
as much memory as the average pilgrim in this valley,
so you see I am not particularly fit to be a receptacle
/^Sfl' confessions. Then why? Can't tell — ^unless it be
to make time pass away after dinner. Charley, my

84

LORD JIM 35

dear chap, your dinner was extremely good, and
in consequence these men here look upon a quiet
rubber as a tumultuous occupation. They wallow in
your good chairs and think to themselves, ^Hang ex-
ertion. Let that Marlow talk .*

\ JS^ t^ft i» AnrTl^.^ff ^f^f fy enough to talk

of Master Jim, after a good spread, two hundred feet
above the sea-level, with a box of decent cigars handy,
on a blessed evening of freshness and starlight that
would make the best of us forget we are only on suffer-
ance here and got to pick our way in cross lights, watch-
ing every precious minute and every irremediable step,
trusting we shall manage yet to go out decently in the
end — ^but not so sure of it after all — ^and with dashed
little help to expect from those we touch elbows with
right and left. Of course there are men here and there
to whom the whofeyHfe is like ar raiter-dinner "hour

with a ciga r; easy, pleasant, emptv. perhaps en livened
fel

b y some fable of s trj if*^ t^ h(^ forgnttpn hf^f^ri^ t b v 9n4 i n
t old — -b efore the end is told — even if there happens to be
any end to it.

"My eyes met his for the first time at that inquiry.
You must know that everybody connected in any way
with the sea was there, because the affair had been
notorious for days, ever since that mysterious cable
'message came from Aden to start us all cackling.
I say mysterious, because it was so in a sense though
it conta ined a nak ed fact, about as naked and ugly
as a fact can well be. The whole waterside talked
of nothing else. First thing in the morning as I
was dressing in my state-room, I would hear through
the bulkhead my Parsee Dubash jabbering about the
Paina with the steward, while he drank a cup of
tea, by favour, in the pantry. No sooner on shore
I would meet some acquaintance, and the first remark

S6 LORD JIM

would be, ^Did you ever hear of anything to beat
this?' and according to his kind the man would smile
cynically, or look sad, or let out a swear or two. Com-
plete strangers would accost each other familiarly,
just for the sake of easing their minds on the subject:
every confounded loafer in the town came in for a
harvest of drinks over this affair: you heard of it in the
harbour ofBce, at every ship-broker's, at your agent's,
from whites, from natives, from half-castes, from the
very boatmen squatting half -naked on the stone steps
as you went up — ^by Jove! There was some indigna-
tion, not a few jokes, and no end of discussions as to
what had become of them, you know. This went on
for a couple of weeks or more, nnHLthp opinion thn^t
whatever was mysterious in this affair would turn out
to be tragic as well, began to prevail, when_q£ig..^e
inormmg^ as I was standing in the shade by the steps of
the harbour ofBce, I perceived four men walking towards
me along the quay. I wondered for a while where that
queer lot had sprung from, and suddenly, I may say, I
shouted to myself, *Here they are ! '

"There they were, siu-e enough, three of them as
large as life, and one much larger of girth than any
Uving man has a right to be, just landed with a good
breakfast inside of them from an outward-bound
Dale line steamer that had come in about an hour
after simrise. There could be no mistake; I spotted
the jolly skipper of the Patna at the first glance: the
fattest man in the whole blessed tropical belt clear
roimd that good old earth of ours. Moreover, nine
months or so before, I had come across him in Sama-
rang. His steamer was loading in the Roads, and
he was abusing the tyrannical institutions of the
German empire, and soaking himself in beer all day
long and day after day in De Jongh's back-shop, till

LORD JIM 37

De Jongh, who charged a guilder for every bottle with-
out as much as the quiver of an eyelid, would beckon
me aside, and, with his little leathery face all puckered
up, declare confidentially, 'Business is business, but
this man, captain, he make me very sick. Tf ui ! '

*^I was looking at him from the shade. He was
hurrying on a Uttle in advance, and the sunhght
beating on him brought out his bulk in a startling
way. He made me think of a trained baby elephant
walking on hind-legs. He was extravagantly gorgeous
too— got up in a soiled sleeping-suit, bright green
and deep orange vertical stripes, with a pair of ragged
straw slippers on his bare feet, and somebody's cast-
oflf pith hat, very dirty and two sizes too small for him,
tied up with a manilla rope-yam on the top of his big
head. You imderstand a man like that hasn't the
ghost of a chance when it comes to borrowing clothes.
Very well. On he came in hot haste, without a look
right or left, passed within three feet of me, and in
the innocence of his heart went on pelting upstairs
in the harbour ofBce to make his deposition, or report,
or whatever you like to call it.

''It appears he addressed himself m the first m-
stance to the principal shipping-master. Archie Ruth-
vel had just come in, and, as his story goes, was about
to begin his arduous day by giving a dressing-down
to his chief clerk. Some of you might have known
him — an obliging little Portuguese half-caste with a
miserably skinny neck, and always on the hop to get
something from the shipmasters in the way of eatables
— a piece of salt pork, a bag of biscuits, a few potatoes,
or what not. One voyage, I recollect, I tipped him a
live sheep out of the remnant of my sea-stock : not that
I wanted him to do anything for me — ^he couldn't, you
know — ^but because his childlike belief in the sacred

38 LORD JIM

right to perquisites quite touched my heart. It was so
strong as to be almost beautiful. The race — ^the two
races rather — and the climate . . . However,
never mind. I know wh6re I have a friend for life.

"Well, Ruthvel says he was giving him a severe
lecture — on official morality, I suppose — ^when he
heard a kind of subdued commotion at his back, and
turning his head he saw, in his own words, something
round and enormous, resembUng a sixteen-hundred-
weight sugar-hogshead wrapped in striped flannel-
ette, up-ended in the middle of the large floor space
in the office. He declares he was so taken aback
that for quite an appreciable time he did not realize
the thing was alive, and sat still wondering for what
purpose and by what means that object had been
transported in front of his desk. The archway from
the ante-room was crowded with punkah-pullers,
sweepers, police peons, the coxswain and crew of the
harbour steam-laimch, all craning their necks and
almost climbing on each other's backs. Quite a riot.
By that time the fellow had managed to tug and
jerk his hat clear of his head, and advanced with
slight bows at Ruthvel, who told me the sight was
so discompK)sing that for some time he listened quite
unable to make out what that apparition wanted. It
spoke in a voice harsh and lugubrious but intrepid,
and little by little it dawned upon Archie that this
was a development of the Patna case. He says that as
soon as he imderstood who it was before him he felt
quite unwell — ^Archie is so sympathetic and easily upset
— ^but pulled himself together and shouted *Stop! I
can't listen to you. You must go to the Master At-
tendant. I can't possibly listen to you. Captain
Elliot is the man you want to see. This way, this way.'
He jumped up, ran roimd that long coimter, pulled.

LORD JIM 39

shoved: the other let him, surprised but obedient at
first, and only at the door of the private office some sort
of animal instinct made him hang back and snort like a
frightened bullock. *Look here! what's up? Let go!
Look here!' Archie flung open the door without
knocking. *The master of the Patna^ sir,' he shouts.
*Go in, captain.' He saw the old man lift his head
from some writing so sharp that his nose-nippers fell off,
banged the door to, and fled to his desk, where he had
some papers waiting for his signature: but he says the
row that burst out in there was so awful that he couldn't
collect his senses sufficiently to remember the spelling
of his own name. Archie's the most sensitive shipping-
master in the two hemispheres. He declares he felt as
though he had thrown a man to a himgryJ|ion. (JKTo
doubt the noise was great. I heard it down below,
and I have every reason to believe it was heard clear
across the Esplanade as far as the band-stand. Old
father Elliot had a great stock of words and could shout
— and didn't mind who he shouted at either. He would
have shouted at the Viceroy himself. As he used to tell
me: 'I am as high as I can get; my pension is safe. I've
a few pounds laid by, and if they don't like my notions
of duty I would just as soon go home as not. I am
an old man, and I have always spoken my mind.
All I care for now is to see my girls married before I
die.' He was a little crazy on that point. His three
daughters were awfully nice, though they resemble
him amazingly, and on the mornings he woke up with
a gloomy view of their matrimonial prospects the office
would read it in his eye and tremble, because, they said,
he was sure to have somebody for breakfast. However,
that morning he did not eat the renegade, but, if I may
be allowed to carry on the metaphor, chewed him up
very small, so to speak, and — ah! ejected him again.

— *i*

-J

40 LORD JIM

''Thus in a very few moments I saw his monstrous
bulk descend in haste and stand still on the outer
steps. He had stopped close to me for the purpose
of profound meditation: his large purple dieeks
quivered. He was biting his thumb, and after a
while noticed me with a sidelong vexed look. The
other three chaps that had landed with him made
a little group waiting at some distance. There was
a sallow-faced, mean little chap with his arm in a sling,
and a long individual in a blue jQannel coat, as dry as a
chip and no stouter than a broomstkk, with drooping
grey moustaches, who looked about him with an air of
jaunty imbecility. The third was an upstanding,
broad-shouldered youth, with his hands in his pockets,
turning his back on the other two who appeared to be
talking together earnestly. He stared across the empty
Esplanade. A ramshackle gharry, all dust and Vene-
tian blinds, pulled up short opposite the group, and the
driver, throwing up his right foot over his knee, gave
himself up to the critical examination of his toes. The
young chgPa j^gJdng jxojnQvfpip^tyjiQ t evgi stirring^m s
head, j St^^^ared i^ ^^ t hp sunshi ne? Th is wa s my
flrst...^^Ljd{-JBm7 I ^e looke4^as_un^ onfi^" iefr^agid
ima pp^oachable as on^y tht* yoimg can loo k. There
he stood, clean-limbed, clean-facea, firm^cS his feet,
as promising a boy as the sim ever shone on; and,
looking at him, knowing all he knew and a little more
too, I was as angry as though I had detected him trying
to get something out of me by false pretences. He had
no business to look so sound. I thought to myself
— ^well, if this sort can go wrong like that . . . and
I felt as though I could fling down my hat and dance
on it from sheer mortification, as I once saw the skip-
per of an Italian barque do because his duffer of a
mate got into a mess with his anchors when making

LORD JIM 41

a flying moor in a roadstead full of ships. Lgsked my-
self, seeing Mm t here apparently so much a jt <*^-<gp^i«
h e^ siny?"T^ 3ieujcSBSxgr H ^e seemed ready to ^t art
wfil stlmglT tune. And note, 1 did not care a rap about
the behaviour of the other two. Their persons some-
how fitted the tale that was public property, and was
going to be the subject of an official inquiry. 'That old
mad rogue upstairs called me a hound,' said the cap-
tain of the Paina. I can't tell whether he recognized me
— ^I rather think he did; but at any rate our glances met.
He glared — ^I smiled; hound was the very mildest
epithet that had reached me through the open window.
* Did he? ' I> ^d from som e fitra^gfi jj^ftKility fn h^^j, my
tongue. He nodded, bit £is thumb again, swore under
Ills breath: then lifting his head and looking at me with
sullen and passionate impudence — *Bah! the Pacific is
big, my f riendt. You damned Englishmen can do your
worst; I know where there's plenty room for a man
like me: I am well aguaindt in Apia, in Honolulu,
in . . .' He paused reflectively, while without
efiFort I could depict to myself the sort of people he was
'aguaindt' with in those places. I won't make a
secret of it that I had been 'aguaindt' with not a few
of that sort myself. There are times when a man
miust act as though life were equally sweet in any
company. I've known such a time, and, what's more,
I shan't now pretend to pull a long face over my neces-
sity, because a good many of that bad company from
want of moral — moral — ^what shall I say? — posture,
or from some other equally profound cause, were
twice as instructive and twenty times more amusing
than the usual respectable thief of conunerce you fel-
lows ask to sit at your table without any real neces-
sity — ^from habit, from cowardice, from good-nature,
from a hundred sneaking and inadequate reasons.

42 LORD JIM

€tf

You Englishmen are all rogues/ went on my
patriotic Flensborg or Stettin Australian. I really
don't recollect now what decent little port on the
shores €A the Baltic was defiled by being the nest of
that precious bird. 'What are you to shout? Eh?
You tell me? You no better than other people, and
that old rogue he make Gottam fuss with me.' His
thick carcass trembled on its l^s that were like a
pair of pillars; it trembled from head to foot. "That's
what you English always make — ^make a tam' fuss —
for any little thing, because I was not bom in your
tam' country. Take away my certificate. Take it.
I don't want the certificate. A man like me don't
want your verfluchte certificate. I shpit on it.' He
spat. T vill an Amerigan citizen b^ome,' he cried,
fretting and fuming and shuffling his feet as if to
free his ankles from some invisible and mysterious
grasp that would not let him get away from that
spot. He made himself so warm that the top of his
bullet head positively smoked. Nothing mysterious
prevented me from going away: curiosity is the most
obvious of sentiments, and it held me there to see
the effect of a full information upon that young fel-
low who, hands in pockets, and turning his back
upon the sidewalk, gazed across the grass-plots of
the Esplanade at the yellow portico of the Malabar
Hotel with the air of a man about to go for a walk
as soon as his friend is ready. That's how he looked,
/ and it was odious. I waited to see him overwhelmed,
confounded, pierced through and through, squirming
like an impaled beetle — and I was half afraid to see
l^.,^f£>9 — ^ you understand what I mean. Nothing
more k^ul than to watch a man who has been found
out, not in a crime but in a more than criminal weak-
iThe commonest sort of fortitude prevents us

LORD JIM

43

^
i

from^ beco mim^ criminals y r\ ft )pgfl.1 y*nr<»^; it is from /
weaJbi^sJ jnknow n. but perhaps suspected, as in
somepaHs^of the world you suspect a deadly snake
in every bush — ^from weakness that may lie hidden,
watched or unwatched, prayed against or manfully
scorned, repressed or maybe ignored more than h
lifetime, not one of us is safe. We are snared into
doing thin^ f^j|dbicju»^^

for ^WBScET'we y^et hanged, and yet the spirit may weuj
survive — survive the condemnations, survive the baiter, \
by Jove! A gd there are thin gs — they look smal
enoug h sometimes to o— by w hich some dh usjg e tptftl ly
and completely un3one. IT^ watch ed the voun^ster
the re. I liked his appearance: 1 knew his appear -
^g; he came from th ejig'^* r^'i^ft i ^^ W^'g ^tt^ ^flT'?
He stood there for ail the parentage of his kind, for

men and women by no means clever or amusing, but ^

whose v ery existence is based upon^ hon^_ Jaith, ^
and upon the instmct of courage. Idon^t mean mili-
tary courage, or civil courage, or any special kind of
courage. I mean just that inborn abihty to look
temptations straight in the face — a readiness unintel-
lectual enough, goodness knows, but without pose — ^a
power of resistance, don't you see, ungracious if you
like, but priceless — <^n, ii^rt^w ^J^^^g ft^d blessed stiffness

^ inward terrors , before the nught

orruption of men — ^backed
Ky A ^oi*^ |pTniinf|foKi|^H/^ ^\^a. strcugth of facts, tb>4h^

^^ccmtagion of example^to tlie sohcitation of ideas. Hang
^TtjEar --"TRBrTO^^ vagabonds, knocking aTthe
back-door of your mind, pap}] tf^^^^ g & httle of your s ub-
sta nce, each carrying away som e crumb of that beb'ef in
a fgWL mapie notions you muj
live Jficently and woula uketo diQ..easy!

b efore the outwa:
oinat

i

:r

c<

This has notEngT tTlfar^'with Jim « directly: only

44 LORD JIM

he was outwardly so typical of that good, stupid kind
we like to feel inarching right and left of us in life,
of the kind that is not disturbed by the vagaries
of intelligence and the perversions of — of nerves,
let us say. He was the kind of fellow you would,
on the strength of his looks, leave in charge of the
deck — ^figuratively and professionally speaking. I say
I would, and I ought to know. Haven't I tiumed
out yoimgsters enough in my time, for the service of
the Red Rag, to the craft of the sea, to the craft whose
whole secret could be expressed in one short sentence,
and yet must be driven afresh every day into young
heads till it becomes the component part of every
waking thought — till it is present in every dream
of their young sleep! The sea has been good to me,
but when I remember all these boys that passed through
my hands, some grown up now and some drowned by
this time, but all good stuff for the sea, I don't think I
have done badly by it either. Were I to go home to-
morrow, I bet that before two days passed over my
head some sunburnt yoimg chief mate would overtake
me at some dock gateway or other, and a fresh deep voice
speaking above my hat would ask : * Don't you remember
me, sir? Why ! little So-and-so. Such and such a ship.
It was my first voyage.' And I would remember a
bewildered little shaver, no higher than the back of
this chair, with a mother and perhaps a big sister
on the quay, very quiet but too upset to wave their
handkerchiefs at the ship that glides out gently be-
tween the pier-heads: or perhaps some decent middle-
aged father who had come early with his boy to see
him off, and stays all the morning because he is inter-
ested in the windlass apparently, and stays too long,
and has got to scramble ashore at last with no time at
ill to say good-bye. The mud pilot on the poop sings

LORD JIM 45

out to me in a drawl, *Hold her with the check line
for a moment, Mister Mate. There^s a gentleman
wants to get ashore. . • • Up with you, sir.
Nearly got carried off to Talcahuano, didn't you?
Now's yoiur time; easy does it. ... All right.
Slack away again forward there.' The tugs, smoking
like the pit of perdition, get hold and chum the old
river into fury; the gentleman ashore is dusting his
knees — ^the benevolent steward has shied his umbrella
after him. All very proper. He has offered his bit of
sacrifice to the sea, and now he may go home pretending
he thinks nothing of it; and the little willing victim
shall be very sea-sick before next morning. By-and-
by, when he has learned all the little mysteries and
the one great secret of the craft, he shall be fit to
live or die as the sea may decree; and the man who
had taken a hand in this fool game, in which the
sea wins every toss, will be pleased to have his back
slapped by a heavy young hand, and to hear a cheery
sea-puppy voice: *Do you remember me, sir? The
little So-and-so.'

"I tell you this is good; it tells you that once in
your life at least you had gone the right way to work.
I have been thus slapped, and I have winced, for
the slap was heavy, and I have glowed all day long
and gone to bed feeling less lonely in the world by
virtue of that hearty thump. Don't I remember
the little So-and-so's! I tell you I ought to know
the right kind of looks. I would have trusted the
deck to that youngster on the strength of a single
glance, and gone to sleep with both eyes — and, by
Jove! it wouldn't have been safe. There are depths
of horror in that thought. He looked as genuine as
a new sovereign, but there was some infemfi ) fillpy

How much? The least thing — the

46 LORD JIM

least drop of something rare and accursed; the least
drop! — ^but he made you — standing there with his
don't-care-hang air — ^he made you wonder whether
perchance he were nothing more rare than brass.

"I couldn't believe it. I tell you I wanted to see
him squirm for the honour of the craft. The other
two no-account chaps spotted their captain, and
b^an to move slowly towards us. They chatted
together as they strolled, and I did not care any more
than if they had not been visible to the naked eye.
They grinned at each other — ^might have been exchang-
ing jokes, for all I know. I saw that with one of them
it was the case of a broken arm; and as to the long
individual with grey moustaches he was the chief
engineer, and in various ways a pretty notorious per-
sonality. They were nobodies. They approached.
The skipper gazed in an inanimate way between his
feet: he seemed to be swollen to an unnatural size by
some awful disease, by the mysterious action of an
unknown poison. He lifted his head, saw the two
brfore him waiting, opened his mouth with an extraor-
dinary, sneering contortion of his puffed face — to
speak to them, I suppose — and then a thought seemed
to strike him. His thick, purplish lips came together
without a soimd, he went off in a resolute waddle to the
gharry and b^an to jerk at the door-handle with such a
blind brutality of impatience that I expected to see the
\ whole concern overturned on its side, pony and all.
The driver, shaken out of his meditation over the sole
of his foot, displayed at once all the signs of intense
terror, and held with both hands, looking round from
his box at this vast carcass forcing its way into his con-
veyance. The little machine shook and rocked tumul-
tuously, and the crimson nape of that lowered neck,
the size of those straining thighs, the immense heaving

\

\

k

LORD JIM 47

of that dingy, striped green-and-orange back, the
whole burrowing effort of that gaudy and sordid mass
troubled one's sense of probability with a droll and
fearsome effect, like one of those grotesque and dis-
tinct visions that scare and fascinate one in a fever.
He disappeared. I half expected the roof to spUt
in two, the little box on wheels to burst open in the
manner of a ripe cotton-pod— but it only sank with a
click of flattened springs, and suddenly one Venetian
blind rattled down. His shoulders reappeared, januned
in the small opening; his head himg out, distended and
tossing like a captive balloon, perspiring, furious,
spluttering. He reached for the gharry-wallah with
vicious flourishes of a fist as dumpy and red as a
lump of raw meat. He roared at him to be off, to
go on. Where? Into the Pacific, perhaps. The
driver lashed; the pony snorted, reared once, and
darted off at a gallop. Where? To Apia? to Hono-
lulu? He had 6,000 miles of tropical belt to disport
himself in, and I did not hear the precise address.
A snorting pony snatched him into ^ewigkeit* in the
twinkling of an eye, and I never saw him again; and,
what's more, I don't know of anybody that ever had a
glimpse of him after he departed from my knowledge
sitting inside a ramshackle Uttle gharry that fled roimd
the comer in a white smother of dust. He departed,
disappeared, vanished, absconded ; and absurdly enough
it looked as though he had taken that gharry with him,
for never again did I come across a sorrel pony with a
sUt ear and a lackadaisical Tamil driver afflicted by a
sore foot. The Pacific is indeed big; but whether he
found a place for a display of his talents in it or not, the
fact remains he had flown into space like a witch on a
broomstick. The little chap with his arm in a sUng
started to run after the carriage, bleating,Xaptain !

48 LORD JIM

I say. Captain! I sa-a^ay!' — but after a few steps
stopped short, hung his head, and walked back slowly.
At the sharp rattle of the wheels the young fellow spun
round where he stood. He made no other movement, no
gesture, no sign, and remained facing in the new direc-
tion after the gharry had swung out of sight.

**A11 this happened in much less time than it takes
to telL &ice 1 am^ti^dng. to int<^ slow

speech the instantaneous effect of visual impressions.
Next moment the haJf-caste clerk, sent by Archie to
look a little after the poor castaways of the Patna^
came upon the scene. He ran out eager and bare-
headed, looking right and left, and very fuU of his
mission. It was doomed to be a failure as far as the
principal person was concerned, but he approached the
others with fussy importance, and, almost imme-
diately, found himself involved in a violent alter-
cation with the chap that carried his arm in a sling
and who turned out to be extremely anxious for a
row. He wasn't going to be ordered about — *not
he, b'gosh.* He wouldn't be terrified with a pack of
lies by a cocky half-bred little quill-driver. He was not
going to be bullied by *no object of that sort,' if the
story were true *ever sol' He bawled his wish, his
desire, his determination to go to bed. *If you weren't
a God-forsaken Portuguee,' I heard him yell, *you
would know that the hospital is the right place for
me.' He pushed the fist of his sound arm under
the other's nose; a crowd began to collect; the half-
caste, flustered, but doing his best to appear dignified,
tried to explain his intentions. I went away without
waiting to see the end.

'^But it so happened that I had a man in the hospital
at the time, and going there to see about him the
day before the opening of the Inquiry, I saw in the

LORD JIM 49

white men's ward that little chap tossing on his back,
with his arm in spUnts, and quite Ught-headed. To my
great surprise the other one, the long individual with
drooping white moustache, had also found his way
there. I remembered I had seen him slinking away
during the quarrel, in a half prance, half shuffle, and
trying very hard not to look scared. He was no
stranger to the port, it seems, and in his distress was
able to make tracks straight for Mariani's billiard-room
and grog-shop near the bazaar. That unspeakable
vagabond, Mariani, who had known the man and
had ministered to his vices in one or two other places,
kissed the groimd, in a manner of speaking, before
him, and shut him up with a supply of bottles in an
upstairs room of his infamous hovel. It appears he
was under some hazy apprehension as to his personal
safety, and wished to be concealed. However, Mariani
told me a long time after (when he canine on board one
day to dun my steward for the price of some cigars) that
he would have done more for him without asking
any questions, from gratitude for some unholy favour
received very many years ago — ^as far as I could
make out. He thumped twice his brawny ch^t,
rolled enormous black and white eyes glistening
with tears: * Antonio never forget — ^Antonio never
forget!' What was the precise nature of the im-
moral obligation I never learned, but be it what it
may, he had every facility given him to remain imder
lock and key, with a chair, a table, a mattress in a
comer, and a litter of fallen plaster on the floor, in an
irrational state of funk, and keeping up his pecker with
such tonics as Mariani dispensed. This lasted till the
evening of the third day, when, after letting out a few
horrible screams, he found himself compelled to seek
safety in flight from a legion of centipedes. He buM

v..

50 LORD JIM

the door open, made one leap for dc^ir life^own the
crazy little stairway, landed bodily on Mariani's
stomach, picked himself up, and bolted like a rabbit
into the streets. The police plucked him off a garbage-
heap in the early morning. At first he had a notion
they were carrying him off to be hanged, and fought for
liboly like a hero, but when I sat down by his bed he
had been very quiet for two days. His lean bronzed
head, with white moustaches, looked fine and calm on
the pillow, like the head of a war-worn soldier with a
child-like soul, had it not been for a hint ci spectral
alarm that lurked in the blank glitter of his glance, re-
sembling a nondescript form of a terror crouching si-
lently behind a pane of glass. He was so extremely
cahuj t|iat^' I b^an to indulge in the eccentric hope of
hearing something explanatory of the famous affair from
lu& pmit of view. ^Why I longed to go grubbing into
the deplorable details of an occurrence which, after all,
^ concerned me no more than as a member of an obscure
/ body of men held together by a community of in-
glorious toil and by fidelity to a certain standard of cquj
duct, I can't explain. You may call it an unhealthy
niirj^ffify il. you like; but I have a distinct notion I
unshed to find something. PerhapSyjujQLQQnsciousl^jJE
hoped I would find that something, some prdouiid and
redeeming cause, jsome merciful explanation, some con-
vmciii^ shadow ©ran excuse, i I sek well enough now
that I hoped for the impossible — ^f or the laying of what
is the most obstinate ghost of man's creation, of the
uneasy doubt upiiuoj^ike a mist, secret and gnawing
y like a worm, and morejbhilling than the certitude of
\ death-j-the doubt of ttesovereign power enthroned in a
/I fixed standard of conduct. It is the hardest thing to
stumble against; it is the thing that breeds yelling
panics and good little quiet villainies; it's the true

LORD JIM 51

shadow of calamity. Did I believe in a miracle?
and why did I desire it so ardently? Was it for my own
sake that I wished to find some shadow of an excuse for
that young fellow whom I had never seen before, but
whose appearance alone added a touch of personal con-
cern to the thoughts suggested by the knowledge
of his weakness — ^mad^ it fa thing of nqpstery 4»d
""""tOTor-^like a hint of a destructive fate ready for
I us all whose youth — ^in its day — ^had resembled his
youth? I fear that such was the secret motive of
my prying. ' F was, and no mistake, looking for a
' miracte. The only thing that at this distance of
time strikes me as miraculous is the extent of my
imbecility. I positively hoped to obtain from that
battered and shady invalid some exorcism against
the ghost of doubt. I must have been pretty desperate
"too, for, wilhoum loss of time, after a few indifferent
and friendly sentences which he answered with languid
readiness, just as any decent sick man would do, I
produced the word Patna wrapped up in a delicate
question as in a wisp of floss silk.; I was delicate
selfishly; I did not want to startle him; I had no solici-
tude for him; I was not furious with him aid" sony
forhim: his experience was of no importance, his
"redemption would have had no point for me. He
had grown old in minor iniquities, and could no longer
inspire aversion or pity. He repeated Patna? inter-
rogatively, seemed to make a short effort of memory
and said: 'Quite right. I am an old stager out here.
I saw her go down.' I made ready to vent my indig-
nation at such a stupid lie, when he added smoothly,
*She was full of reptiles.*

**This made me pause. What did he mean? The
unsteady phantom of terror behind his glassy eyes
seemed to stand still and look into mine wistfully.

^

52 LORD JIM

'They turned me out of my bunk in the middle watch
to lock at her sinking/ he pursued in a reflective
tone. His voice sounded alarmin^y stiraig all at
once. I was sorry for my folly. There was no snowy-
winged coif of a nursing sister to be seen flitting in the
perspective of the ward; but away in the middle of a
long row of empty iron bedsteads an accident case from
some ship in the Boaj^sat up brown and gaunt with a
white bandage'set raElshly on the forehead. Suddenly
my interesting invalid shot out an arm thin like a
t^tacle and clawed my shoulder. 'Only my eyes were
good enough to see. I am famous for my eyesight.
That's why they called me, I expect. None of them
was quick enough to see her go, but they saw that she
was gone right enough, and sang out together — ^like
this.' ... A wolfish howl searched the very
recesses of my soul. *0h! make 'im dry up/ whined
the accident case irritably. 'You don't believe me,
I suppose/ went on the other, with an air of ineffable
conceit. 'I tell you there are no such eyes as mine this
side of the Persian Gulf. Look under the bed.'

"Of course I stooped instantly. I defy anybody
not to have done so. 'What can you see?' he asked.
'Nothing/ I said, feeling awfully ashamed of myself.
He scrutinised my face with wild and withering con-
tempLw/' Jiist so,' he said, 'but if I were to look I could
see — ^there's no eyes like mine, I tell you.' Again he
clawed, pulling at me downwards in his eagerness to re-
lieve himself by a confidential communication. 'Mil-
lions of pink toads^,. There's no eyes like mine. "Mil-
lions of pink toads. It's worse than seeing a ship sink.
I could look at sinking ships and smoke my pipe all day
long. Why don't they give me back my pipe? I would
get a smoke while I watched these toads. The ship
was full of them. They've got to be watched, you

LORD JIM 63

know/ He winked facetiously. The perspiration
dripped on him off my head, my drill coat clung to
my wet back: the afternoon breeze swept impetuously
over the row of bedsteads, the stiff folds of curtains
stirred perpendicularly, rattling on brass rods, the
covers of empty beds blew about noiselessly near the
bare floor all along the line, and I shivered to the very
marrow. The soft wind of the tropics played in that
naked ward as bleak as a winter's gale in an old bam at
home. * Don't you let him start his hollering, mister,'
hailed from afar the accident case in a distressed angry
shout that came ringing between the walls like a quav-
ering call down a tunnel. The clawing hand hauled
at my shoulder; he leered at me knowingly. *The
ship was full of them, you know, and we had to clear
out on the strict Q. T.,' he whispered with extreme ra-

,.- -^M^yv *Aii pink. All pink — as big as mastiffs, with ^
an eye on the top of the head and claws all roimd their >A '
ugly mouths. Ough! Ough!' Quick jerks as of

-•^•'gSIvanic shocks disclosed under the flat coverlet the
outlines of meagre and agitated legs; he let go my
shoulder and reached after something in the air; his
' body trembled tensely like a released harp-string; and
while I looked down, the spectral horror in him broke
through his glassy gaze. Instantly his face of an old
soldier, with its noble and calm outlines, became decom-
posed before my eyes by the corruption of stealthy
cunning, of an abominable caution and of desperate fear.
He restrained a cry — *Ssh! what are they doing now
down there?' he asked, pointing to the floor with fan-
tastic precautions of voice and gesture, whose meaning,
borne upon my mind in a lurid flash, made me very sick
of my cleverness. *They are all asleep,' I answered,
watching him narrowly. That was it. That's what
he wanted to hear; these were the exact words that

u

k.

54 LORD JIM

could calm hiin.. He drew a long breath. 'Ssh!
Quiet, 8teadyi..'''I am an old stager out here. I know
them brutes. Bash in the head of the first that stirs.
There's too many of them, and she won't swim more
than ten minutes.' He panted again. ^ Hurry up/
he yelled suddenly, and went on in a steady scream:
*They are all awake — ^millions of them. They are
trampling on me! Wait! Oh, wait! I'll smash them
in heaps like flies. Wait for me! Help! H-e-elp!'
An interminable and sustained howl completed my
discomfiture. I saw in the distance the accident case
raise deplorably both his hands to his bandaged head; a
dresser, aproned to the chin, showed himself in the vista
of the ward, as if seen in the small end of a telescope. I
confessed myself fairly routed, and without more ado,
stepping out through one of the long windows, escaped
into the outside gallery. The howl pursued me like
a vengeance. I turned into a deserted landing, and
suddenly all became very still and quiet around me,
and I descended the bare and shiny staircase in a
silence that enabled me to compose my distracted
thoughts. Down below I met one of the resident
surgeons who was crossing the courtyard and stopped
me. ^Been to see your man. Captain? I think we
may let him go to-morrow. These fools have no
notion of taking care of themselves, though. I say,
we've got the chief engineer of that pilgrim ship here.
A curious case. D. T.'s of the worst kind. He has
been drinking hard in that Greek's or Italian's grog-
shop for three days. What can you expect? Four
bottles of that kind of brandy a day, I am told. Won-
derful, if true. Sheeted with boiler-iron inside, I
should think. The head, ah! the head, of course,
gone, but the curious part is there's some sort of method
in his raving. I am trying to find out. Most unusual

■*■ "n-

— J

LORD JIM 55

— ^that thread of logic in such a delirium. Traditionally
he ought to see snakes, but he doesn't. Good old
tradition's at a discount nowadays. Eh! BGar—Cl' —

-*-■•*--■•—■ •Hill mmmmmm^lt^^'^ " <■ » -^--w^. ^^ . ;

[a! ha! No, seriously, i""^"^ <
never remember being so interested in a case of jim-
jams before. He ought to be dead, don't you know,
after such a festive experiment. Oh! he is a tough
object. Pdur-Mid-tw«i*y ycafs of the tropics too.
You ought really to take a peep at him. Noble-
looking old boozer. Most extraordinary man I ever
met — ^medically, of course. Won't you?'

^^I have been all along exhibiting the usual polite
signs of interest, but now assuming an air of regret
I murmured of want of time, and shook hands in a
hurry. *I say,' he cried after me, *he can't attend
that inquiry. Is his evidence material, you think? '

"*Not in the least,' I called back from the gate-
way."

^

I

CHAPTER SIX

"The authorities were evidently of the same opinion.
The inquiry was not adjourned. It was held on the
appointed day to satisfy the law, and it was well
attended because of its human interest, no doubt.
There was no incertitude as to facts — as to the one
material fact, I mean. How the Patna came by her
hurt it was impossible to find out; the court did not
expect to find out; and in the whole audience there
was not a man who cared. Yet, as IVe told you, all
the sailors in the port attended, and the waterside
business was fully represented. /Whether they knew
it or not, the interest that drew them there was purely
/psychological — the expectation of some essential dis-
/ closure as to the strength, the power, the horror, of
I human emotions. || Naturally nothing of the kind could
be disclosed. The examination of the only man able
and willing to face it was beating futilely round the
well-known fact, and the play of questions upon it was
as instructive as the tapping with a hammer on an
iron box, were the object to find out what's inside.
However, an official inquiry could not be any other
thing. 'Its object was not the fundamental why, but
the superficial how, of this affair J

"The young chap could have fold them, and, though
that very thing was the thing that interested the au-
dience, the questions put to him necessarily led him
away from what to me, for instance, would have been
the only truth worth knowing. You can't expect the
constituted authorities to inquire into the state of a

56

LORD JIM 67

man's soul — or is it only of his liver? Their business
was to come down upon the consequences, and frankly,
a casual police magistrate and two nautical assessors
are not much good for anything else. I don't mean to
imply these fellows were stupid. The magistrate was
very patient. v^Onp nf thn nsBfteioiB was a sailing-ship '7
skipper with a reddish beard, and of a pious disposition. !
Brierly was the other. BigBrierly. Some of you must ^
have heard of Big Brierly — the captain oHhecradc^^Wg^
of the Blue Star line. That's the mai

**He seemed consumedly bored by the honour
thrust upon him. He had never in his life made
a mistake, never had an accident, never a mishap,
never a check in his steady rise, and he seemed to
be^Che of those lucky fellows who know nothing of
^miedsiQI3U^ much ljgasuiQl. «e1f i» mistrus t. At thirty-two
"ne had one of the best commands going in the Eastern
trade — ^and, what's more, he thought a lot of what
he had. There was nothing like it in the world,
and I suppose if you had asked him point-blank he
would have confessed that in his opinion there was
not such another commander. The choice had fallen
upon the right man. The rest of mankind that did
not command the sixteen-knot steel steamer Ossa
were rather poor creatures. He had saved Hves at
sea, had rescued ships in distress, had a gold chro-
nometer presented to him by the underwriters, and a
pair of binoculars with a suitable inscription from some
foreign Government, in commemoration of these
services. He was acutely aware of his merits and of
his rewards. I liked him well enough, though some I
know — ^meek, friendly men at that — couldn't stand
him at any price. I haven't the slightest doubt he
considered himself vastly my superior — indeed, had
you been Emperor of East and West, you coidd not

■•N

58 LORD JIM

have ignored your inferiority in his presence — ^but I
couldn't get up any real sentiment of offence. He
did not despise me for anything I could help, for any-
thing I was — don't you know? I was a n^ligible
quantity simply because I was not the fortunate
man of the earth, not Montage Brierly in command
of the Ossay not the owner of an inscribed gold chro-
nometer and of silver-mounted binoculars testifying to
the excellence of my seamanship and to my indomitable
pluck; not possessed of an acute sense of my merits and
of my rewards, besides the love and worship of a black
retriever, the most wonderful of its kind — for never was
such a man loved thus by such a dog. No doubt, to
have all this forced upon you was exasperating enough;
but when I reflected that I was associated in these fatal
disadvantages with twelve hundred miUions of other
more or less human beings, I found I could bear my share
of his good-natured and contemptuous pity for the
sake of something indefinite and attractive in the
man. I have never defined to myself this attraction,
but there were moments when I envied him. The
sting of life could do no more to his complacent soul
than the scratch of a pin to the smooth face of a rock.
This was enviable. As I looked at him flanking on
I one side the unassuming pale-faced magistrate who
i presided at the inquiry, his self-satisfaction presented
1 to me and to the world a surface as hard as granite.
\ He committed suicide very soon after.

"No wonder Jim's case bored him, and while I
thought with something akin to fear of the immensity
of his contempt for the young man under examina-
tion,, he was probably holding silent inquiry into
his own case. The verdict must have been of unmiti-
gated guilt, and he took the secret of the evidence
with him in that leap into the sea. If I understand

' ) ^■\

I

^ LORD JIM 59

anything of men, the matter was no doubt of the
gravest import, one of those trifles that awaken ideas
—start into life some thought with which a man
unused to such a companionship finds it impossible
to live. I am in a position to know that it wasn't
money, and it wasn't drink, and it wasn't woman.
^IPTfTyiiix^) ^ 9 Y frb»^^ at sea barely a week after the
end of the inquiry, and less than three days after
leaving port on his outward passage; as though on
that exact spot in the midst of waters he had suddenly
perceived the gates of the other world flung open wide

"Yet it was not a sudden impulse. His grey-headed
mate, a first-rate sailor and a nice old chap with stran-
gers, but in his relations with his commander the surliest
chief officer I've ever seen, would tell the story with
tears in his eyes. It appears that when he came on
deck in the morning Brierly had been writing in the
chart-room. ^It was ten minutes to four,' he said,
*and the middle watch was not relieved yet of course.
He heard my voice on the bridge speaking to the second
mate, and called me in. I was loth to go, and that's the
truth. Captain Marlow — ^I couldn't stand poor Captain
Brierly, I tell you with shame; we never know what a
man is made of. He had been promoted over too many
heads, not counting my own, and he had a damnable
trick of making you feel small, nothing but by the way
he said "Good morning." I never addressed him, sir,
but on matters of duty, and then it was as much as I
could do to keep a civil tongue in my head.' (He
flattered himself there. I often wondered how Brierly
could put up with his manners for more than half a
voyage.) *I've a wife and children,' he went on,
*and I had been ten years in the Company, always ex-
pecting the next conmiand — ^more fool I. Says he.

60 LORD JIM

just like this: "Come in here, Mr. Jones," in that
swagger voice of his — "Come in here, Mr. Jones.**
In I went. "We'll lay down her position,** says he,
stooping over the chart, a pair of dividers in hand.
By the standing orders, the oflScer going oflF duty
would have done that at the end of his watch. How-
ever, I said nothing, and looked on while he marked o£F
the ship*s position with a tiny cross and wrote the
date and the time. I can see him this moment writing
his neat figures: seventeen, eight, four a. m. The
year would be written in red ink at the top of the
chart. He never used his charts more than a year.
Captain Brierly didn't. I've the chart now. When
he had done he stands looking down at the mark he had
made and smiling to himself, then looks up at me.
"Thirty-two miles more as she goes,** says he, "and
then we shall be clear, and you may alter the course
twenty degrees to the southward.**

"*We were passing to the north of the Hector
Bank that voyage. I said, "All right, sir,** wonder-
ing what he was fussing about, since I had to call
him before altering the course anyhow. Just then
eight bells were struck: we came out on the bridge,
and the second mate before going off mentions in
the usual way — "Seventy-one on the log.** Captain
Brierly looks at the compass and then all round.
It was dark and clear, and all the stars were out as
plain as on a frosty night in high latitudes. Sud-
denly he says with a sort of a little sigh: "I am
going aft, and shall set the log at zero for you myself,
so that there can be no mistake. Thirty-two miles
more on this course and then you are safe. Let's
see — ^the correction on the log is six per cent, additive;
say, then, thirty by the dial to run, and you may come
twenty degrees to starboard at once. No use losing

LORD JIM 61

any distance — is there?" I had never heard him talk
so much at a stretch, and to no purpose as it seemed to
me. I said nothing. He went down the ladder, and
the dog, that was always at his heels whenever he
moved, night or day, followed, sliding nose first, after
him. I heard his boot-heels tap, tap on the after-deck,
then he stopped and spoke to the dog — "Go back.
Rover. On the bridge, boy! Go on — get.'* . Then
he calls out to me from the dark, "Shut that dog
up in the chart-room, Mr. Jones — will you?"

"*This was the last time I heard his voice. Cap-
tain Marlow. These are the last words he spoke
in the hearing of any living human being, sir.* At
this point the old chap's voice got quite unsteady.
*He was afraid the poor brute woidd jiunp after ifino^'^""''^
don't you see?' he piu-sued with a quaver. *Yes, " '-^
Captain Marlow. He set the log for me; he — ^woidd ,
you believe it? — ^he put a drop of oil in it too. There
was the oil-feeder where he left it near by. The
boatswain's mate got the hose along aft to wash down at
half -past five; by-and-by he knocks oB and runs up on
the bridge — "Will you please come aft, Mr. Jones," he
says. "There's a funny thing. I don't like to touch
it." It was Captain Brierly's gold chronometer watch
carefully hung under the rail by its chain.

"*As soon as my eyes fell on it something struck
me, and I knew, sir. My legs got soft under me.
It was as if I had seen him go over; and I could tell
how far behind he was left too. The taflfrail-log marked
eighteen miles and three-quarters, and four iron belay-
ing-pins were missing round the mainmast. Put them
in his pockets to help him down, I suppose; but. Lord!
what's four iron pins to a powerful man like Captain
Brierly . f "TCTSybe his confidence in himself was just
"Sfiook a bit at the last. That's the only sign of fluster

62 LORD JIM

he gave in Iiis whole life, I should think; but I am ready
to answer for him, that once over he did not try to swim
a stn^e, the same as he would have had pludk enough
to keep up all day long on the bare chance had he fallal
overboard accidentally. Yes, sir. He was second to
none — if be said so himself, as I heard him once. He
had written two letters in the middle watch, one to
the Company and the other to me. He gave me
a lot of instructions as to the passage — I had been
in the trade before he was out of his time — and no
end of hints as to my conduct with our people in
Shanghai, so that I should keep the command of the
Ossa. : He wrote like a father would to a faxaunte
' son, Captain Marlow, and I was five-and-twenfy
years his senior and had tasted salt water b^ore he
was furly breeched. In his letter to the owners —
it was IdFt open for me to see — he said that he had
always done his duty by them — up to that moment
— and even now he was not betraying their confidence,
since he was leaving the ship to as competent a sea-
man as could be found — meaning me, sir, meaning
me! He told them that if the last act of his life didn't
take away all his credit with them, they would give
weight to my faithful service and to his warm recom-
mendation, when about to fill the vacancy made by his
E death. And much more like this, sir. I coiddn't
Ibelieve my eyes. It made me feel queer all over,'
Kwent on the old chap in great perturbation, and squash-
; something in the comer of his eye with the end of a
Ihumb as broad as a spatula. 'You would think, sir,
B had jumped overboard only to give an unlucky man
V last show to get on. 'What with the shock of him
[oing in this awful rash way, and thinking myself a
de man by that chance, I was nearly off my chump
i week. But no fear. The captain of the Pelion

d

LORD JIM 63

was shifted into the Ossa — came aboard in Shanghai —
a little popinjay, sif,*^3ra grey cheek suit, with his hair
parted in the middle. "Aw — ^I am — ^aw — ^your new
captain. Mister — ^Mister — aw — Jones." He was
drowned in scent — ^fairly stunk with it. Captain Mar-
low. I daresay it was the look I gave him that made
him stammer. He mumbled something about my
natural disappointmentf-~r had better knowTrt onov thftti.^
his chief officer got the promotion to the Pelion — he had
nothing to do with it, of course — supposed the office
knew best — sorry. . . . Says I, "Don't you mind
old Jones, sir; damn his soul, he's used to it." I could
see directly I had shocked his delicate ear, and while we
sat at our first tiffin together he b^an to find fault in a
nasty manner with this and that in the ship. I never
heard such a voice out of a Punch and Judy show. I
set my teeth hard, and glued my eyes to my plate, and
held my peace as long as I could ; but at last I had to say
something : up he jumps tiptoeing, ruffling all his pretty
plumes, like a little fighting cock. "You'll find you
have a different person to deal with than the late
Captain Brierly." "I've found it," says I, very glmn,
but pretending to be mighty busy with my steak.
"You are an old ruffian, Mr. — ^aw — ^Jones; and what's
more, you are known for an old ruffian in the employ,"
he squeaks at me. The damned bottle-washers stood
about listening with their mouths stretched from ear
to ear. "I may be a hard case," answers I, "but I
ain't so far gone as to put up with iJie si^ht of you
sitting in Captain Brierly 's-ehair.** ^ With that Ilaiy
down my knife and fork. "You would like to sit in
it yourself — that's where the shoe pinches," he sneers.
I left the saloon, got my rags together, and was on
the quay with all my dunnage about my feet before
the stevedores had turned to again. Yes. Adrift —

64 ' LORD JIM

on shore — ^after ten years* service — and with a poor
woman and four children six thousand miles oS de-
pending on my half-pay for every mouthful they ate.
Yes, sir! I chucked it rather than hear Captain
Brierly abused. JSFlef t . me his night-glass5&v-here
they are; and he wished me to take care"tlf"ffie dog
— ^here he is. Hallo, Rover, poor boy. Where's the
captain. Rover?' The dog looked up at us with
mournful yellow eyes, gave one desolate bark, and
crept under the table.

"All this was taking place, more than two years
afterwards, on board that nautical ruin the Fire-Queen
this Jones had got charge of — quite by a funny acci-
dent, too — ^from Matherson — ^mad Matherson they
generally called him — the same who used to hang out
in Ha!-phong, you know, before the occupation days.
The old chap snuffled on — '

"*Ay, sir. Captain Brierly will be remembered here,
if there's no other place on earth. I wrote fully to
his father and did not get a word in reply— neither
Thank you, nor Go to the devil! — ^nothing! Perhaps
they did not want to know.*

"The sight of that watery-eyed old Jones mopping
his bald head with a red cotton handkerchief, the
sorrowing yelp of the dog, the squalor of that fly-
blown cuddy which was the only shrine of his memory,
threW. a veil ©rinexpressibly mean pathos over Brierly's
remembered figure; the posthumous revenge of fate for
that belief in his own splendour which had almost
cheated his life .<^ its legitimate terrors.: Almost!
Perhaps wholly. Who can tell what flattering view
he had induced himself to take of his own suicide?

"*Why did he commit the rash act. Captain Marlow
— can you think?* asked Jones, pressing his palms
together. *Why? It beats me! Why?* He slapped

LORD JIM 65

his low and wrinkled forehead. ^If he had been poor
and old and in debt — and never a show — or else mad.
But he wasn't of the kind that goes mad, not he.
You trust me. What a mate don't know about his
skipper isn't worth knowing. Young, healthy, well
off, no cares. ... I sit here sometimes thinking,
thinking, till my head fairly begins to buzz. There was
some reason.*

"*You may depend on it, Captain Jones,' said I,
*it wasn't anything that would have disturbed much
either of us two,' I said; and then, as if a light had
been flashed into the muddle of his brain, poor old
-■^SSSs^Jound a last word of amazing profundity. He
blew his nose, nodding at me dolefully: *Ay, ay!
neither you nor I, sir, had ever thought so much of
ourselves.'

"Of course the recollection' of my last conversa-
tion with Brierly is tinged with the knowledge of
his end that followed so close upon it. I spoke with
him for the last time during the progress of the in-
quiry. It was after the first adjournment, and he
came up with me in the street. He was in a state
of irritation, which I noticed with surprise, his usual
behaviour when he condescended to converse being
perfectly cool, with a trace of amused tolerance, as
if the existence of his interlocutor had been a rather
good joke. *They caught me for that inquiry, you
see,' he began, and for a while enlarged complain-
ingly upon the inconveniences of daily attendance
in court. *And goodness knows how long it will
last. Three days, I suppose.' I heard him out in
silence; in my tiben opinion it was a way as good as
another of putting on side. * What's the use of it?
It is the stupidest set out you can imagine,' he pur-
sued, hotly. I remarked tiiat there was no option.

66 LORD JIM

He interrupted me with a sort of pent-up violence.
^I feel like a fool all the time/ I looked up at him.
This was going very far — ^for Brierly — ^wh^i talking of
Brierly. He stopped short, and seizing the lappel
of my coat, gave it a slight tug. * Why are we t orment -
ing that young chapp' he asked. TfcST qiiestioli
chimed in so well to the tolling of a certain thought of
mine that, with the image of the absconding ren^ade
in my eye, I answered at once, * Hanged if I know,
unless it be that he lets you.' I was astonished to see
him fall into line, so to speak, with that utterance,
which ought to have been tolerably cryptic. He said
angrily^ J^ Why, yes. Can't he see that wretched
skipper of his has cleared out? What does he expect
to happen? Nothing can save him. He's done for.'
We walked on in silence a few steps. ^WEy^SiTall
that dirt?' he exclauned, with an oriental energy of
expression — ^about the only sort of energy you can
find a trace of east of the fiftieth meridian. I won-
dered greatly at the direction of his thoughts, but now
I strongly suspect it was strictly in character: at
bottom poor Brierly must have been thinking of him-
self. I pointed out to him that the skipper of the
Patna was known to have feathered his nest pretty well,
and could procure almost anywhere the means of get-
ting away. With Jim it was otherwise: the Govern-
ment was keeping him in the Sailors' Home for the
time being, and probably he hadn't a penny in his
pocket to bless himself with. It costs some money to
run away. *Does it? Not always,' he said, with a
bitter laugh, and to some further remark of mine —
*Well, then, let him creep twenty feet underground
and stay there! By heavens! I would.' I don't
know why his tone provoked me, and I said, * There
is a kind^^ courage in facing it out as he does, know-

LORD JIM 67

in gyery well that if he we nt away nobody would tro uble

him/ 'Courage be hange d!" growled

M^m ^J^jJtm -'■''

K you were to say it was a kind of cowardice now —
of softness. I tell you what, I will put up two hundred
rupees if you put up another hundred and undertake
to make the b^gar clear out early to-morrow morning.
The fellow's a gentleman if he ain't fit to be touched —
he will understand. He must! This infernal pub-
Ucity is too shocking: there he sits while all these
confounded natives, serangs, lascars, quartermasters,
are giving evidence that's enough to bum a man to
ashes with shame. This is abominable. Why, Mar-
low, don't you think, don't you feel, that this is abom-
inable; don't you now — come — ^as a seaman? If
he went away all this would stop at once.' Brierly
said these words with a most unusual animation,
and made as if to reach after his pocket-book. I
restrained him, and declared coldly that the cowardice
of these four men did not seem to me a matter of such
great importance. ^And you call yourself a seaman,
I suppose,' he pronounced, angrily. I said that's
what I called myself, and I hoped I was too. He
heard me out, and made a gesture with his big arm
that seemed to deprive me of my individuaUty, to push
me away into the crowd. *The worst of it,' he said,
*i s that all you fellows h av e no sense of dig nity; you
don^t think enough i>l.what you are supposed j&> bfe".^
"We had been walking slowly meantime, and now
stopped opposite the harbour office, in sight of the
very spot from which the immense captain of the
Patna had vanished as utterly as a tiny feather blown
away in a hurricane. I smiled. Brierly went on:
^This is a disgrace. We've got all kinds amongst

68 LORD JIM

us — ^some anointed scoundrels in the lot; but, hang
it, we must preserve pro fessumal decency or we be-
come no better than ' 86 mSoiy ^linkers going about
loose. We are tyniste d. Do you understand? —
trusted! inrfflitiy, I don't care a snap for all the
pilgrims that ever came out of Asia, but a decent
man would not have behaved like this to a full cargo
of old rags in bales. We a ren't an organized body of
men,jmd thet only, tliijig tuRt hnlHa ii^ f/^frpf^pr |g
Justus jjflflDUeifeLJJj^ajt JoBid of decency. Such an affair
destroys one's confidence. A man may go pretty near
through his whole sea-life without any call to show
a stiff upper lip. But when the call comes • • •
Aha! . . . KI . . .'

"He broke off, and in a changed tone, *F11 give
you two himdred rupees now, Marlow, and you just
talk to that chap. Confound him! I wish he had
never come out here. Fact is, I rather think some
of my people know his. The old man's a parson,
and I remember now I met him once when staying
with my cousin in Essex last year. If I am not mis-
taken, the old chap seemed rather to fancy his sailor
son. Horrible. I can't do it myself — but you . • •'

"Thus, apropos of Jim, I had a glimpse of the
real Brierly a few days before he committed his reality
and his sham together to the keeping of the sea. Of
course I declined to meddle. The tone of this last
*but you' (poor Brierly couldn't help it), that seemed
to imply I was no more noticeable than an insect,
caused me to look at the proposal with indignation,
and on account of that provocation, or for some other
reason, I became positive in my mind that the inquiry
was a severe punishment to that Jim, and that his
facing it — ^practically of his own free will — was a re-
deeming feature in his abominable case. I hadn't

LORD JIM 69

been so sure of it before. Brierly went off in a huff.
r-AT the time his state of mind was more of a mystery
fto me tibin it is now.

'*Ke^ 3ay, coming into court late, I sat by my-
self. Of course I could not forget the conversation
I had with Brierly, and now I had them both under
my eyes. The demeanour of one suggested gloomy
impudence and of the other a contemptuous bore-
dom; yet one attitude might not have been truer
than tiie other, and I was aware that one was not
true. Brierly was not bored — he was exasperated;
and if so, then Jun might not have been hnpudent.
According to my theory he was not. I imagined he
was hopeless. Then it was that our glances met.
They met, and the look he gave me was discouraging
of any intention I might have had to speak to him.
Upon either hypothesis — ^insolence or despair — I felt
I could be of no use to him. This was the second
day of the proceedings. Very soon after that exchange
of glances the inquiry was adjourned agam to the
next day. The white men began to troop out at
once. Jim had been told to stand down some time
before, and was able to leave amongst the first. I
saw his broad shoulders and his head outlined in the
light of the door, and while I made my way slowly
out talking with some one — some stranger who had
addressed me casually — ^I could see him from within
the court-room resting both elbows on the balustrade
of the verandah and turning his back on the small
stream of people trickling down the few steps. There
was a murmur of voices and a shuffle of boots.

"The next case was that of assault and battery
committed upon a money-lender, I believe; and the
defendant— a venerable villager with a straight white
beard — sat on a mat just outside the door with his sons,

70 LORD JIM

daughters, sons-in-law, their wives, and, I should think,
half the population of his village besides, squatting
or standing around him. A slim dark woman, with
part of her back and one black shoulder bared, and
with a thin gold ring in her nose, suddenly began to
talk in a high-pitched, shrewish tone. The man with
me instinctively looked up at her. We were then just
through the door, passing behind Jim's burly back.

"Whether those villagers had brought the yellow
dog with them, I don't know. Anyhow, a dog was
there, weaving himself in and out amongst people's
legs in that mute stealthy way native dogs have
and my companion stumbled over him. The dog
leaped away without a sound; the man, raismg his
voice a Uttle, said with a slow laugh, ^Look at that
wretched cur,' and directly afterwards we became
separated by a lot of people pushing in. I stood
back for a moment against the wall while the stranger
managed to get down the steps and disappeared.
I saw Jim spin roimd. He made a step forward and
barred my way. We were alone; he glared at me with
an air of stubborn resolution. I became aware I was
being held up, so to speak, as if in a wood. The
verandah was empty by then, the noise and movement
in court had ceased: a great silence fell upon the
building, in which, somewhere far within, an oriental
voice began to whine abjectly. The dog in the very
act of trying to sneak in at the door, sat down hurriedly
to himt for fleas.

"*Did you speak to me?' asked Jim very low,
and bending forward, not so much towards me but
at me, if you know what I mean. I said 'No' at
once. Something in the sound of that quiet tone of
his warned me to be on my defence. I watched him.
It was very much lik^ a meeting in a wood, only more

LORD JIM 71

uncertain in its issue, since he could poAibly want
neither my mxmey^uw- my Mfe"' n othing that I could
simply give up or defend with a clear conscience.
*You say you didn't/ he said, very sombre. *But I
heard.' *Some mistake/ I protested, utterly at a
loss, and never taking my eyes off him. To watch
his face was like watching a darkening sky before a
clap of thunder, shade upon shade imperceptibly
coming on, the gloom growing mysteriously intense
in the calm of maturing violence.

"* As far as I know, I haven't opened my hps in
your hearing,' I affirmed with perfect truth. I was
getting a little angry, too, at the absurdity of this
encounter. It strikes me now I have never in my
life been so near a beating — ^I mean it Kterally; a
beating with fists. I suppose I had some hazy pre-
science of that eventuality being in the air. Not that
he was actively threatening me. On the contrary,
he was strangely passive — don't you know? but he
was lowering, and, though not exceptionally big, he
looked generally fit to demolish a wall. Tlie most
reassuring symptom I noticed was a kind of slow
and ponderous hgsita l^ion. which I took as a tribute
to the evident sincerity of my manner and of my tpne^
We faced each other. In the court the assault case
was proceeding. I caught the words: *Well — ^buffalo
— stick — ^in the greatness of my fear. . . /

***What did you mean by staring at me all the
morning?' said Jim at last. He looked up and looked
down again. *Did you expect us all to sit with down-
cast eyes out of regard for your susceptibilities?' I
retorted sharply. I was not going to submit meekly
to any of his nonsense. He raised his eyes again, and
this time continued to look me straight in the face.
*No. That's all right,' he pronounced with an air

V

•y.

72 LORD JIM

otVleliMting with himself upon the truth of this
stat tftfl c nt ' 'that's all right. I am going through
with that. Only' — ^and there he spoke a httle faster
— *I won't let any man call me names outside this
court. There was a fellow with you. You spoke to
him — oh, yes — ^I know; 'tis all very fine. You spoke
to him, but you meant me to hear. . . .'

"I assured him he was imder some extraordinary
delusion. I had no conception how it came about.
*You thought I would be afraid to resent this,' he
said, with just a faint tinge of bitterness. I was
interested enough to discern the slightest shades of
expression, but I was not in the least enlightened;
yet I don't know what in these words, or perhaps
just the intonation of that phrase, induced me sud-
denly to make all possible allowances for him. I
ceased to be annoyed at my imexpected predicament.
It was some mistake on his part; he was blundering
and I had an intuition that the blimder was of an odious,
of an unfortunate nature. I was anxious to end this
scene on grounds of decency, just as one is anxious
to cut short some improvoked and abominable con-
fidence. The funniest part was, that in the midst of
all these considerations of the higher order I was
conscious of a fyftiiin trppi(1fitinTi as to the possibility
I — ^nay, likelihood — of this encounter ending in some
i disreputable brawl which could not possibly be ex-
i plained, and wo uld make me rid iculous. I did not
■- hanker after a mree days' celebrity as the man who
got a black eye or something of the sort from the mate
of the Patna. He, in all probability, did not care what
he did, or at any rate would be fully justified in his
own eyes. It took joa magiciaJl to see he was amazingly
angry about something, for all his quiet and even torpid
demeanour. I don't deny I was extremely desirous

)

LORD JIM 78

to pacify him at all costs, had I only known what to
do. But I didn't know, as you may weU imagme.
It was blackness without a single gleam. We con-
fronted each other in silence. He himg fire for about
fifteen seconds, then made a step nearer, and I made
ready to ward oflf a blow, though I don't think I moved
a muscle. *If you were as big as twa men and as
strong as six,' he said very softly, *I would tell you
what I think of you. You . . / *Stop!' I ex-
claimed. This checked him for a second. ^Before you
tell me what you think of me,' I went on, quickly, *will
you kindly tell me what it is I've said or done? ' During
the pause that ensued he surveyed me with indigna-
tion, while I made supernatural efforts of memory,
in which I was hindered by the oriental voice within
the court-room expostulating with impa3sioned volu-
bihty against a charge of falsehood? i Then we spoke
almost together. *I will soon show you I am not,'
he said, m a tone suggestive of a crisis. *I declare
I don't know,' I protested earnestly at the same time.
He tried to crush me by the scorn of his glance. *Now
that you see I am not afraid you try to crawl out of
it,' he said. * Who's a cur no w — ^hey?' Then, at
last, I understood.

"He had been scanning my features as though
looking for a place where he ' would plant his fist.
*I will allow no man,' . . . /^ mumbled, threaten-
ingly. It was, indeed, a hideoiis mistake: he had given
himself away utterly. I can t give you an idea how
shocked I was. I suppose he saw some reflection of
my feelings in my face, because his expression changed
just a little. *Good God!' I stammered, *yon don't
think I . . .' *But I am sure I've heard,' he per-
sisted, raising his voice for the first time since the
b^inning of this deplorable scene. Then with a shade

|^»^^ 74 LORD JIM

of disdain he added, 'It wasn't you, then? Very well;

m find the other.' 'Don't be a fool,' I cried in ex-

( asperation; *it wasn't that at all/ *I*ve heard/ he

I said again with an unshaken and sombre perseverance.

/ . "There may be those who could have iau^ied at

^ hi» -pertinacity. -I^iid«-'tr--©hr^-^idSLl/TW had

\/ never been a man so mercilessly shown up by his

jown natural impulse. A^ single word had stripp ed

V^^ him

neci^sary to tKe decencies of -Our. Janer^iifiing ^ ^
clotmMjftltotheaecorum of our body. * Don't be
a fool» I repeated. But the other man said it, you
don't deny that?* he pronounced, distinctly, and
looking in my face without flinching. *No, I don't
deny,' said I, returning his gaze. At last his eyes
followed downwards the direction of my pointing
finger. He appeared at first imcomprehending, then
confounded, and at last amazed and scared as though
a dog had been a monster and he had never seen a
dog before. * Nobody dreamt of insulting you/ I said.
"He contemplated the wretched animal, that moved
no more than an effigy : it sat with ears pricked and its
sharp muzzle pointed into the doorway, and suddenly
snapped at a fly like a piece of mechanism.

"I looked at him. The red of his fair simbumt
complexion deepened suddenly under the down of his
cheeks, invaded his forehead, spread to the roots of
his curly hair. His ears became intensely crimson,
and even the clear blue of his eyes was darkened many
shades by the rush of blood to his head. His Ups
pouted a little, trembling as though he had been on
the point of bursting into tears. I perceived he was
incapable of pronouncing a word from the excess of
his humiliation. From disappointment too — ^^Hkl^
knows? Perhaps he looked forward to that hammer-

LORD JIM 75

ing he was going to give me for rehabilitation, for
appeasement? Who can tell what relief he expected
from this chance of a row? He was naive enough to
expect anything; but he had given hima^^lf awRy
fo rnotto in this' ca se. He h£l bee n frank with
himself — ^let alone with me — ^in the wild hope of arriv-
ing in that way at some effective refutation, and the
stars had been ironically impropitious. He made an
inarticulate noise in his throat like a man imperfectly
stunned by a blow on the head. It was pitiful.

^'I didn't catch up again with him till well outside
the gate. I had even to trot a bit at the last, but
when, out of breath at his elbow, I taxed him with
numing away, he said, 'Never!' and at once turned
at bay. I explained I never meant to say he was
running away from me. *From no man — ^from not
a single man on earth,' he affirmed with a stubborn
mien. I forebore to point out the one obvious ex-
ception which would hold good for the bravest of
us; I thought he would find out by himself very soon.
He looked at me patiently while I was thinking of
something to say, but I could find nothing on the spur
of the moment, and he began to walk on. I kept up,
and anxious not to lose him, I said hurriedly that I
couldn't think of leaving him under a false impression
of my — of my — ^I stammered. The stupidity of the
phrase appalled me while I was trying to finish it, but
the power of sentences has nothing to do with their
sense or the logic of their construction. My idiotic
mumble seemed to please him. He cut it short by
saying, with courteous placidity that argued an immense
power of self-control or else a wonderful elasticity of
spirits — * Altogether my mistake.' I marvelled greatly
at this expression : he might have been alluding to some
trifling occurrence. Hadn't he understood its deplor-

76 LORD JIM

able meaning? *You may well forgive me/ he con-
tinued, and went on a little moodily , ^All these staring
people in court seemed such fools that — that it might
have been as I supposed/

"This opened suddenly a new view of him to my
wonder. I looked at him curiously and met his un-
abashed and impenetrable eyes. *I can't put up with
this kind of thing/ he said, very simply » *and I don't
mean to. In court it's different; I've got to stand
that — and I can do it too/

"I don't pretend I imderstood him. The views
he let me have of himself were like those glimpses
through the shifting rents in a thick fog — ^bits of
vivid and vanishing detail, giving no connected idea
of the general aspect of a country. They fed one's
curiosity without satisfying it; they were no good
for purposes of orientation. Upon the whole he was
misleading. That's how I summed him up to myself
after he left me late in the evening. I had been
staying at the Malabar House for a few days, and
on my pressing invitation he dined with me there."

I

f
I

• /

I

CHAPTER SEVEN

"An outward-bound mail-boat had come in that
afternoon, and the big dining-room of the hotel was
more than half full of people with a hundred pounds
roimd-the-world tickets in their pockets. There were
married couples looking domesticated and bored with
each other in the midst of their travels; there were
small parties and large parties, and lone individuak
dining solenmly or feasting boisterously, but all think-
ing, conversing, joking, or scowling as was their wont
at home; and just as intelligently recgjtiye^of ne^ 7
impressions as their trunks upstairs. S Henceforth TiE^T**^
would be labelled as having passed through this and
that place, and so would be their luggage. They would
cherish this distinction of their persons, and preserve
the gununed tickets on their portmanteaus as docu-
mentary evidence, as the only permanent trace of their
improving enterprise. The dark-faced servants tripped
without noise over the vast and polished floor; now
and then a girl's laugh would be heard, as innocent
and empty as her mind, or, in a sudden hush of crockery,
a few words in an affected drawl from some wit em-
broidering for the benefit of a grinning tableful the
last fimny story of shipboard scandal. Two nomadic
old maids, dressed up to kill, worked acrimoniously
through the bill of fare, whispering to each other with
faded lips, wooden-faced and bizarre, like two sumptu-
ous scarecrows. A little wine opened Jim's heart and
loosened his tongue. His appetite was good, too, I
noticed. He seemed to have buried somewhere the

77

78 LORD JIM

opening episode of our acquaintance. It was like a
thing of which there would be no more question in this
world. And all the time I had before me these blue,
boyish eyes looking straight into mine, this young face,
these capable shoulders, the open bronzed forehead with
a white line imder the roots of clustering fair hair, this
appearance appeaUng at sight to all my sympathies:
this frank aspect, the artless smile, the youthful serious-
ness. He was of the right sort; he was one of us. He
talked soberly, with a sort of composed imreserve, and
with a quiet bearing that might have been the outcome
of 4iianly.sfilf=CQntiQljL.of impudence, of callousness, of a
.^^olpss^UmconsciousnesS^ deception. Who

£{IP t^m i^bm'our tone we ml[ght luivenfen c^
ing a third person, a football match, last year's weather.
My mind floated in a sea of conjectures till the turn of
the conversation enabled me, without being offensive,
to remark that, upon the whole, this inquiry must have
been pretty trying to him. He darted his arm across
the tablecloth, and clutching my hand by the side
of my plate, glared fixedly. I was startled. *It must
be awfully hard,' I stammered, confused by this dis-
play of speechless feeling. *It is — ^hell,' he burst out
in a muffled voice.

"This movement and these words caused two well-
groomed male globe-trotters at a neighbouring table
to look up in alarm from their iced pudding. I rose,
and we passed into the front gallery for coffee and
cigars.

"On Uttle octagon tables candles burned in glass
globes; clumps of stiff-leaved plants separated sets
of cosy wicker chairs; and between the pairs of columns,
whose reddish shafts caught in a long row the sheen
from the tall windows, the night, glittering and sombre,
seemed to hang like a splendid drapery; The riding

LORD JIM 79

lights of ships winked afar like setting stars, and the
hills across the roadstead resembled rounded black
masses of arrested thimder-clouds.

"*I couldn't clear out/ Jim began. *The skipper
did — ^that's all very well for him. I couldn't, and X ^
wouldn't. They all got out ^Liaoftft way or another,
but it wouldn't do for jpae.' J ' ^ ^

^^I listened with concentrated attention, not daring
to stir in my chair; I wanted to know — ^and to this
day I don't know, I can only guess. He would be con-
fident and depressed all in the same breath, as if some
conviction of innate blamelessness had checked the
truth writhing within him at every turn. He began
by saying, in the tone in which a man would admit
his inability to jump a twenty-foot wall, that he could
never go home now; and this declaration recalled to
my mind what Brierly had said, ^that the old parson
in Essex seemed to fancy his sailor son not a little.'

"I can't tell you whether Jim knew he was espe-
cially * fancied,' but the tone of his references to *my,^
Dad' ..was calculated to give me a notion tKat the
good old rural dean was about the finest man that
ever had been worried by the cares of a large family
since the beginning of the world. This, though never
stated, was implied with an anxiety that there should
be no mistake about it, which was really very true and
charming, but added a poignant sense of lives far off
to the other elements of the story. *He has seen it
all in the home papers by this time/ said Jim. *I can
never face the poor old chajp/ I did not dare to lift"'
my eyes at this till I heard Tiim add, *I could never
explain. He wouldn't understand.' Then I looked
up. He was smoking reflectively, and after a moment,
rousing himself, began to talk again. He discovered
at once a desire that I should not confound him with

80 LORD JIM

his partners in — ^in crime, let us call it. He was not
one of them; he was altogether of another sort. I
gave no sign of dissent. I had no intention, for the
sake of barren truth, to rob him of the smallest par-
ticle of any saving grace that would come in his way.
I didn't know how much of it he believed himself. I
didn't know what he was playing up to — if he was
playing up to anything at all — ^and I suspect he did not
know either; for it is my beUef no man ever under-
stands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the
grim shadow of self-knowledge. I made no sound
all the time he was wondering what he had better do
after Hhat stupid inquiry was over.'

"Apparently he shared Brierly's contemptuous
opinion of these proceedings ordamed by law. He
would not know where to turn, he confessed, clearly
thinking aloud rather than talking to me. Certifi-
cate gone, career broken, no money to get away, no
work that he could obtain as far as he could see. At
home he could perhaps get something; but it meant
going to his people for help, and that he would not do.
He saw nothing for it but ship before the mast — could
get perhaps a quartermaster's billet in some steamer.
Would do for a quartermaster. . . . *Do you think
you would?' I asked, pitilessly. He jumped up, and
going to the stone balustrade looked out into the night.
In a moment he was back, towering above my chair
with his youthful face clouded yet by the pain of a
conquered emotion. He had understood very well I
did not doubt his ability to steer a ship. In a voice
that quavered a bit he asked me, *Why did I say that?
I had been "no end kind" to him. I had not even
laughed at him when' — here he began to mumble —
*that mistake, you know — made a confounded ass of
myself.' I broke in by saying rather warmly that for

•MM**:**— ^

LORD JIM 81

me such a mistake was not a matter to laugh at. He
sat down and drank deliberately some eoflfee, empty-
ing the small cup to the last drop. ^That does not '
mean I admit for a moment the cap fitted/ he declared,
distinctly. *No?' I said. *No/ he affirmed with'
quiet decision. ' Do vou know wh ^^t V^' ^^Mld ^^y**
done? Do you? And you don't think yourself
. ""; l Ee gulped something . . . *y ou don't
tiiink your self a — a — cur? ' ..

"And with this— upon my honour! — ^he looked
up at me inquisitively. It was a question it appears
— a bond-fide question! However, he didn't wait
for an answer. Before I could recover he went on, ^
with his eyes straight before him, as if readinjg^ q§,S^
something written on the body of the nightt -ilt is
all in being ready. I wasn't; not — ^not then. I don't
want to excuse myself; but I would like to explain
— ^I would like somebody to imderstand — somebody —
one person at least! You! Why not you?'

was soleimirand a little ridiculous, too, as they
always are,^ose struggl(M of ati'^diviHu^^ trying to
.aaye from the fire liia, idea of wlSat Tiis moral identity
i^ould be, this precious notion of a convention, only
one of the rules of the game, nothing more, but all the
same so terribly eflfective by its assumption of un-
limited power over natural instincts, by the awful
peualties„jQ|^ its failure. [He' began his story quietly
enough. On boaxd'^thai Dale Line steamer that had
picked up these four floating in a boat upon the discreet
simset glow of the sea, they had been after the first
day looked askance upon. The fat skipper told some
story, the others had been silent, and at first it had been
accepted. You don't cross-examine poor castaways
you had the good hick to save, if not from cruel death,
then at least from cruel suffering. Afterwards, with

^ .

V -.- *

82 LORD JIM

time to iiiink it over, it might have struck the officers
of the Avondale that there was 'isomething fishy' in
the affair; but of course they would keep their doubts
to themselves. Tliey had picked up the captain, the
mate, and two engineers of the steamer Paina sunk
at sea, and that, very properly, was enough for them.
I did not ask Jim about the nature oPus^feehngs during
the ten.dftys he spent on board. From the way he
narrated that pait I was at liberty to infer li^was partly
stunned by the discovery he had made —the discovery
about himself — and no doubt was at woHt taang to
explain it away to the only man who was cap^aie of
appreciating all its tremendous magnitude. You must
imderstand he did not try to mininjise its importance.
Of that I am sure; and therein Ii{% IlIs distinction. As
to what sensations he experienced when he got ashore
and heard the unforeseen conclusion of the tale in which
he had taken such a pitiful part, be told me nothing
of them, and it is difficult to imagine. I wonder
whether he felt the ground cut from under his feet?
I wonder? But no doubt he managed to get a fresh
foothold very soon. He was ashore a whole fortnight
waiting in the Sailors' Home, and as there were six or
seven men staying there at the time, I had heard of
him a httle. Their languid opinion seined to be that
in addition to his other shortcomings, he was a sulky
brute. He bad passed these days on the verandah,
buried in a long chair, and coming out of his place
of sepulture only at meal-times or late at night, when
he wandered on the quays all by himself, detached
from his surroimdings, irresolute and silent, like a ghost
without a home to haunt. 'I don't think I've spoken
three words to a living soul in all that time,' he said,
making me very sorry for him; and directly he added,
'One of these fellows would have been sure to blurt

''\

LORD JIM 83

out something I had made up my mind not to put up
with, and I didn't want a row. No! Not then. I
was too — ^too ... I had no heart for it.* *So
that bulkhead held out after all/ I remarked, cheer-
fully. *Yes,' he murmured, *it held. And yet I swear
to you I felt it bulge imder my hand.' *It's extraor-
dinary what strams old uron will stand sometimes, T
said. Thrown back in his seat, his legs stiffly out and
arms hangmg down, he nodded slightiy several times.
You could not conceive a sadder spectacle. Suddenly
he lifted his head; he sat up; he slapped his thigh.
*Ah! what a chance missed! My God! what ji chancf * ^^
miss^t3BS*liSa«f^^ of the last Wsseii' "^ '''"'

'fSembled a cry wrung out by pain.

^^He was silent again with a still, far-away look
of fierce yearning after that missed distinction, with
his nostrils for an instant dilated, sniffing the intoxicat-
ing breath of that wasted opportunity. If you think
I was either surprised or shocked you do me an in-
justice in more ways than one! Ah, he was an im-
aginative beggar! He would give himself a way;
he would give himself up^ 1 could see in his glance

darted into the night nil liig I'mPf^ Kpinfr nurrj^ nn,

projected headlong into the fanciful realm of recklesg lj;]^ ^
tiftm ip flAp i rfttinnaT TTf> hnd n o Ir i inr n t o r rrrr t w h n t " ^ "'^
he ha d lost, he was so \mollv and naturally concer ned J^^ ^^
for what he had failed tft qI^^^^^^jt^ He was very far /'

away from me who watched him across three feet of /-.
space. Wi ^_eveiy instant he was penetrating deepe r L^^^
into the impossible ^orld of romantic achievemen ts, i ''•'^'^
H e got to me near t of it at last ! A strange look of ^f^t^^l^
beatitude overspread his features, his eyes sparkled ^^^^
in the light of the candle burning between us; he /j^yi
positively smiled! H^Jia^ penetrft^ed t/i the v^ry ^^
heart — ^to the very heart. It was an ecstatic smile

I

84 LORD JIM

that your faces — or mine either — ^will never wear, my
dear boys. I whisked him back by saying, *If you
Ijad stuck to tJies^^ you mean!'

"He turned upon me, his eyes suddenly amazed
and full of pain, with a bewildered, startled, suflFer-
ing face, as though he had tumbled down from a star.
Neither you nor I will ever look like this on any man.
He shuddered profoundly, as if a cold finger-tip had
touched his heart. Last of all he sighed.

"I was not in a merciful mood. He provoked one
by his contradictory indiscretions. *It is imfortu-
nate you didn't know beforehand!' I said with every
unkind intention; but the perfidious shaft fell harm-
less — dropped at his feet like a spent arrow, as it were,
and he did not think of picking it up. Perhaps he
had not even seen it. Presently, lolling at ease, he
said, *Dash it all! I tell you it bulged. I was holding
up my lamp along the angle-iron in the lower deck
when a flake of rust as big as the palm of my hand fell
oflf the plate, all of itself.' He passed his hand over
his forehead. *The thmg stirred and jumped off Kke
something alive while I was looking at it.' *That
made you feel pretty bad,' I observed, casually. 'Do
} you suppose,' he said, *that I was thinking of myself,
{ with a hundred and sixty people at my back, all fast
> asleep in that fore-'tween-deck alone — ^and more of
/ them aft; more on the deck — sleeping — ^knowing
nothing about it — ^three times as many as there were
boats for, even if there had been time? I expected to
see the iron open out as I stood there and the rush of
water going over them as they lay. . . . What
coul d I do — wha t ? '

^*1 can easily picture him to myself in the peopled
gloom of the cavernous place, with the light of the
bulk-lamp falling on a small portion of the bulk-

LORD JIM 85

head that had the weight of the ocean on the other
side, and the breathing of unconscious sleepers in his
ears. I can see him glaring at the iron, startled by
the falling rust, overburdened by the knowledge of
an imminent death. This, I gathered, was the second
time he had been sent forward by that skipper of
his, who, I rather think, wanted to keep him away
from the bridge. He told me that his first impulse
was to shout and straight away make all those people
leap out of sleep into terror; but such an overwhelm-
ing sense of his hel plessnes s came over him that he was
mot able to produce a sound. This is, I suppose, what
people mean by the tongue cleaving to the roof of the
mouth. *Too dry,* was the concise expression he used
in reference to this state. Without a sound, then, he
scrambled out on deck through the number one hatch.
A wind-sail rigged down there swung against him acci-
dentally, and he remembered that the light touch of
the canvas on his face nearly knocked him off the
hatchway ladder.

"He confessed that his knees wobbled a good deal
as he stood on the foredeck looking at another sleep-
ing crowd. The engines having been stopped by that
time, the steam was blowing off. Its deep rumble
made the whole night vibrate like a bass string. The
ship trembled to it.

"He saw here and there a head lifted off a mat, a
vague form uprise in sitting posture, listen sleepily
for a moment, sink down again into the billowy con-
fusion of boxes, steam-winches, ventilators. He was
aware all these people did not know enough to. tftkg
intelligent notice of that strange noise^ Ihe ship of ^
iron, the men with white faces, all the sights, all the
sounds*^ everything on board to that ignorant and
pious multitude was strange alike, and as trustworthy. _

86 LORD JIM

as it would {or ever remain incomprehensible. It oc-
curred to him that the fact was fortunate. The idea
of it was simply terrible.

"You must remember he believed, as any other
man would have done in his place, that the ship would
go down at any moment; the bulging, rust-eaten
plates that kept back the ocean, fatally must give way,
all at once like an undermined dam, and let in a sudden
and overwhelming flood. He stood still looking at
these recumbent bodies, a doomed man aware of his
fate, surveying the silent company of the dead. They
were dead! Nothing could save them! There were
boats enough for half of them perhaps, but there was
no time. No time! No time! It did not seem worth
while to open his lips, to stir hand or foot. Before he
could shout three words, or make three steps, he would
be floundering in a sea whitened awfully by the des-
perate struggles of human beings, clamorous with
the distress of cries for help. There was no help. He
imagined what would happen perfectly; he went
through it all motionless by the hatchway with the lamp
in his hand — ^he went through it to the very last har-
rowing detail. I think he went through it again while
he was telling me these things he could not tell the
court.

"*I saw as clearly as I see you now that there was
nothing I could do. It se emed to tjilcft p\] Ijf^ nut
6f my hmE s! i thougnt l might just as well stand
where I was and wait. I did not think I had many
seconds . . .* Suddenly the steam ceased blowing
off. The noise, he remarked, had been distracting,
but thfi, silence at once became intolerably oppressive.
.:"*I thought I would choke before I got drowned,*
he s^d*

He protested he did not think of saving himself.

«

LORD JIM 87

The only distinct thought formed, vanishing, and re-
forming in his brain, was: eight hmidred people and
seven boats; eight hmidred people and seven boats.

"* Somebody was speaking aloud inside my head,'
he said a little wildly. * Eight hundred people and
seven boats — ^and no time! Just think of it.' He
leaned towards me across the Uttle table, and I tried
to avoid his stare. *Do you think I was afraid of
death?' he asked in a vbice vety flerce^andTow. He
brought down his open hand with a bang that made
the cofifee-cups dance. *I am ready to swear I was
not — ^I was not. ... By God — ^no!' He hitched
himself upright and crossed his arms; his chin fell on
his breast.

"The soft clashes of crockery reached us faintly
through the high windows. There was a burst of
voices, and several men came out in high good-himiour
into the gallery. They were exchanging jocular remi-
niscences of Uie donkeys in Cairo. A pale anxious
youth stepping softly on long legs was being chaffed
by a strutting and rubicund globe-trotter about his
piux^hases in the bazaar. *No, really — do you think
I've been done to that extent?' he inquired very
earnest and deliberate. The band moved away,
dropping into chairs as they went; matches flared,
illuminating for a second faces without the ghost of an
expression and the flat glaze of white shirt-fronts; the
himi of many conversations animated with the ardour
of feasting sounded to me absurd and infinitely remote.

"*Some of the crew were sleeping on the number
one hatch withm reach of my arm,' began Jim again.

"You must know they kept Kalashee watch in that
ship, all hands sleeping through the night, and only
the reliefs of quartermasters and look-out men being
called. He was tempted to grip and shake the shoulder

88 LORD JIM

of the nearest lascar, but he didn't. Something held

his arms down along his sides. He was not afraid —

no ! only he just couldn't— that's all. He was

not afraid of death perhaps, butJ['ll tell you what, he

vas afraig oTjhe emergenc y. His confounded miagi-

lation had evoked for him all the horrors of panic, the

trampling rush, the pitiful screams, boats swamped—

all the appaUing incidents of a disaster at sea he had

ever Jbeard jof. — He might have been resigned to die

""But I suspect he wanted to die without added terrors,
quietly, in a sort of peaceful trance. A certain readi-
ness to perish is not so very rare, but it is seldom that
vou meet men whose souls, steeled in the impenetrable
armour of resolution, are ready to fight a losing battle
to the last, the desire of peace waxes stronger as hope

Reclines, till at last it conquers the very desire of life.
Which of us here has not observed this, or maybe
experienced something of that feeling in his own person
— tlns extreme we arinasa^ ^ emotions, the vg nf^y ^^
effort> tEe yearm n g for rest ? Those striving with
unreasonable forces know It well, — ^the shipwrecked
castaways injioatsj wanderers lost in a desert,.>'mSn
h^iJ^^g^'ageLUist the unCEmking might'St"^ or

/ the stupid brutality of crowds."

C-^-'^

CHAPTER EIGHT

"How long he stood stock-still by the hatch expect-
ing every moment to feel the ship dip mider his feet
and the rush of water to take him at the back and toss
him like a chip, I cannot say. Not very long — two
minutes perhaps. A couple of men he could not make
out began to converse drowsily, and also, he could
not tell where, he detected a curious noise of shuffling
feet. Above these faint sounds there was that awful
stillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence
of the moment before the crash; then it came into his
head that perhaps he would have time to rush along
and cut all the lanyards of the gripes, so that the boats
would float oflF as tiie ship went down.

"The Patna had a long bridge, and all the boats
were up there, four on one side and three on the other
— ^the smallest of them on the port-side and nearly
abreast of the steering gear. He assured me, with
evident anxiety to be believed, that he had been most
careful to keep them ready for instant service. He
knew his duty. I dare say he was a good enough mate
as far as that went. *I always believed in being pre-
pared for the worst,' he commented, staring anxiously
in my face. I nodded my approval of the sound prin- y
ciple, averting my eyes before the subtle unsoundness
of the man.

"He started unsteadily to run. He had to step
over legs, avoid stumbling against the heads. Sud-
denly some one caught hold of his coat from below,
and a distressed voice spoke under his elbow. The

89

90 LORD JIM

light of the lamp he carried in his right hand fell upon
an upturned dark face whose eyes entreated him to-
gether with the voice. He had picked up enough of
the language to understand the word water, repeated
several times in a tone of insistence, of prayer, almost
of despair. He gave a jerk to get away, and felt an
arm embrace his leg.

"*The beggar clung to me like a drowning man,'
he said, impressively. * Water, water! What water
did he mean? What did he know? As calmly as
I could I ordered him to let go. He was stopping
me, time was pressmg, other men began to stir; I
wanted time — ^time to cut the boats adrift. He got
hold of my hand now, and I felt that he would begin
to shout. It flashed upon me it was enou^ to start
a panic, and I hauled off with my free arm and slung
the lamp in his face. The glass jingled, the light
went out, but the blow made him let go, and I ran
off — ^I wanted to get at the boats; I wanted to get
at the boats. He leaped after me from behind. I
turned on him. He would not keep quiet; he tried
to shout; I had half throttled him before I made
out what he wanted. He wanted some water —
water to drink; they were on strict allowance, you
know, and he had with him a young boy I had noticed
several times. His child was sick — ^and thirsty. He
had caught sight of me as I passed by, and was begging
for a Kttle water. That's all. We were under the
bridge, in the dark. He kept on snatching at my
wrists; there was no getting rid of him. I dashed
into my berth, grabbed my water-bottle, and thrust
it into his hands. He vanished. I didn't find out
till then how much I was in want of a drink my-
self.' He leaned on one elbow with a hand over his
eyes.

LORD JIM 91

"I felt a creepy sensation all down my backbone;
there was something peculiar in all this. The fingers
of the hand that shaded his brow trembled slightly.
He broke the short silence.

^** These things happen only once to a man and
. . . Ah! well! When I got on the bridge at last
the beggars were getting one of the boats off the
chocks. A boat! I was running up the ladder when
a heavy blow fell on my shoulder, just missing my head.
It didn't stop me, and the chief engineer — ^they had got
him out of his bunk by then — ^raised the boat-stretcher
agam. SomehoW I had no mind to be surprised at any-
thing. All this seemed natural — ^and awful — and awful.
I dodged that miserable maniac, lifted him off the deck
as though he had been a Uttle child, and he started
whispering in my arms: "Don't! don't! I thought
you were one of them niggers." I flung him away, he
skidded along the bridge and knocked the legs from
under the Uttle chap — ^the second. The skipper,
busy about the boat, looked round and cqjne at me
head down, growling liks.jEL. wild>b8ftit» I flinchcNr
no more than a stone. I was as soUd standing there
as this,' he tapped Ughtly with his knuckles the wall
beside his chair. 'It was a^ though I had heard it
all, seen it all, gone through it all twenty times already.
I wasn't afraid of them. I drew back my fist and he
stopped short, muttering —

"*"Ah! it's you. Lend a hand quick."

"* That's what he said. Quick! As if anybody
could be quick enough. "Aren't you going to do
something?" I asked. "Yes. Clear out," he snarled
over his shoulder.

"*I don't think I understood then what he meant.
The other two had picked themselves up by that
time, and they rushed together to the boat. They

92 LORD JIM

tramped, they wheezed, they shoved, they cursed
the boat, the ship, each other — cursed me. All m
mutters. I didn't move, I didn't speak. I watched
the slant of the ship. She was as still as if landed
on the blocks in a dry dock — only she was like this.'
He held up his hand, palm under, the tips of the
fingers inclined downwards. *Like this,' he repeated.
'I could see the line of the horizon before me, as clear
as a bell, above her stem-head; I could see the water
far off there black and sparkling, and stiU — ^still as a
pond, deadly stiU, more still than ever sea was before
— ^more stiD than I could bear to look at. Have you
watched a ship floating head down, checked in sink-
ing by a sheet of old iron too rotten to stand being
shored up. Have you? Oh yes, shored up? I thought
of that — ^I thought of every mortal thing; but can you
shore up a bulkhead in five minutes — or in fifty for that
matter? Where was I going to get men that would go
down below? And the timber — ^the timber! Would
you have had the courage to swing the maul for the first
blow if you had seen that bulkhead? Don't say you
would: you had not seen it; nobodS-SEQuld. Hang it —
to do a SmgTiEe thai you must believe there is a
chance, one in a thousand, at least, some ghost of a
chance; and you would not have believe d. ^libflLdy
wo uld have believ ed. You think me a cur for standing
there, but what would you have done? What! You
c an't tell — ^nobody can t ell. One must have time to
turn round. What would you have me do? Where
was thei^^ess in making crazy with fright all those
people I could not save single-handed — ^that nothing
could save? Look here! As true as I sit on this chair
before you . . .'

"He drew quick breaths at every few words and
shot quick glances at my face, as though in his anguish

t . c ■ ■ •

LORD JIM 93

he were watchful of the effect. He was not speaking
to me, he was only speaking before me, in a dispute
with an invisible personality, ^p ^^^tagoni gti^ ^tiH in-

separable partn er of t^f<^ ftin'stf^npft — ^another poasesaof '^

o fhis soti E These were issues beyond the competency /
of^a court of inquiry : it was a subtle and momentous /
quarrel as to the true essence of life, and did not want a
judge. He wanted an ally, a helper, an accomplice.r'T
felt the risk I ran of being drciunvented, bEfided,
decoyed, bullied, perhaps, into taking a definite part in ^
a dispute impossible of decision if one had to be fair ^l^j^
to all the phantoms in possession — to t he reputab le j^
that had its claims and to tlip HfqrppnfnMA fhof hnrl^p^'^ ^a

its exigencies. I can't explain to you who haven't ^
seen him and who hear his words only at seconji-'hMMUN, ^
the mixed nature of my f eelings.<::fT[t seemed to me I was
being made to comprehend t hg^ Inconc^^ lg^ni
know of nothing to compare with the disconififfFoi such J*^^^
a sensation. I was made to look at the convention t£ S
lurks in all trutE and on the essential sinceritylof fal

k*>'>.^i

hQQ£L tie appl3uled To au siaes ai once — ^to the sii
turned perpetually to the light of day, and to mat side
of us which, like the other hemisphere of tha moon,
exists stealthily in perpetual darkness, with onlja fear- ^^
ful ashy light falUng at times on the ^ige. y HT^fewayeS
me. I own to it, I own u p. The CMCcasion was ^BsSUre,
insignificant — ^wkat you will: a lost youngster, one in a
million— but then he was one of us; an incident fis com-
pletely devoid of importance as the flooding of im ant-
heap, and yet the mystery of his attitude got ho|[i of me

as though he had been an mdividual in the ^Jrefront.

of his kind, as if the obscure truth involved were

itself. . . ,7^**" ''■ ' " """"' y

TSfei^rlow paused to put new life into his expiring

-;*

^,

d4 LORD JIM

cheroot, seemed to forget all about the story, and
abruptly began again.

"My fault of course. One has no business really
to get interested. It's a weakness of mine. His
was of another kind. My weakness consists in not
having a discriminating eye for the incidental — ^for
the externals — ^no eye for the hod of the rag-picker
or the fine linen of the next man. Next man — ^that's
\^^ it. I have met so many men," he pursued, with
momentary sadness — "met them, too, with a certain —
certain — ^impact, let us say; like this fellow, for instance^
^ ^^a nd in each case all I could see was merely the huma^u^
u being.^^A coniounded dumucialic ^ivdilynoiT^vision
^^ IwEi^ max be better than totainblindneSs, bnt" h as been
iJpbf no advantage to me, I can assiirS yoii. Men expect
one to take into account their fine linen. But I never
could get up any enthusiasm about these things. Oh!
it's a failing; it's a failing; and then comes a soft even-
ing; a lot of men too indolent for whist — and a
story. ..."

He paused again to wait for an encouraging remark
perhaps, but nobody spoke; only the host, as if re-
luctantly performing a duty, murmured —
"You are so subtle, Marlow."
"Who? I?" said Marlow in a low voice. "Oh,
no! But he was; and try as I may for the success
of this yam I am missing inniunerable shades — ^they
were so fine, so diflBcult to render in colourless words.
Because he complicated matters by being so simple,
too — ^the simplest poor devil! ... By Jove! he
was amazing. There he sat telling me that just as I
saw him before my eyes he wouldn't be afraid to
face anything — ^and believing in it, too. I tell you
it wasffSiLulously ii^^^ it was enormous,

enormous! I watched Kim covertly, just as though

LORD JIM 96

I had suspected him of an intention to take a jolly
good rise out of me. He was confident that, on the
square, *on the square, mind!* there was nothing he
couldn't meet. Ever since he had been *so high' —
* quite a Uttle chap,' he had been preparing himself
for all the difficulties that can beset one on land and
water. He confessed proudly to this kind of fore- \
sight. He had been elaborating dangers and defences,
expecting the worst, rehearsing his best. He must
have led a most exalted existence. Can you fancy it?
A succession of adventures, so much glory, such a
victorious proCT'^SSTt^and^th^deetTseni^^^ 7

crowningeyery dayof Hsjan^j^elorgot himself; ^ ,^
his eyes shone; and with every word my heart, searched ' .
by the light of his absurdity, wa^ growing heavier in my
breast. I had no mind to laugh, and lest I should smile
I made for myself a stolid face. He gave signs of
irritation.

"'It is always the unexpected that happens,' I
said in a propitiatory tone. My obtuseness pro- /j|^
voked him into a contemptuous * Pshaw!' I suppose /^
he meant that the unexpected couldn't touch him; \j^^^
nothing less than the unconceivable itself could get over
his perfect state of preparation. He had been taken
unawares — and he whispered to himself a malediction
upon the waters and the firmament, upon the ship, upon
the men. Everything had betrayed him! He had
been tricked into that sort of high-minded resignation
which prevented him lifting as much as his little finger,
while these others who had a very clear perception of
the actual necessity were tumbling against each other
and sweating desperately over that boat business.
Something had gone wrong there at the last moment.
It appears that in their flurry they had contrived
in some mysterious way to get the sliding bolt of the

<>

r/

^K*-,

/

96 LORD JIM

foremost boat-chock jammed tight, and forthwith
had gone out of the remnants of their minds over the
deadly nature of that accident. It must have been a
pretty sight, the fierce industry of these beggars toihng
on a motionless ship that floated quietly in the silence
of a world asleep, fighting against time for the free-
ing;^of that boat, grovelling on all-fours, standing
up m despaur, tugging, pusnmg, snarling ateach other
venomously, ready to kill, ready to weep, and only
kept from flying at each other's throats by the fear of
death that stood silent behind them like an inflexible
( and cold-eyed taskmaster. Oh, yes! It must have
been a pretty sight. He saw it all, he could talk
about it with scorn and bitterness; he had a minute
knowledge of it by means of some sixth sense, I con-
clude, because he swore to me he had remained apart
without a glance at them and at the boat — ^without
one single glance. And I believe him. I should think
he was too busy watching the threatening slant of
the ship, the suspended menace discovered in the
midst of the most perfect security — fascinated by the
sword hanging by a hair over his imaginative head.

"Nothing in the world moved before his eyes,

and he could depict to himself without hindrance

the sudden swing upwards of the dark sky-line, the

sudden tilt up of the vast plain of the sea, the swift

still rise, the brutal fling, the grasp of the abyss, the

struggle without hope, the starlight closing over

his head for ever like the vault of a tomb — the revolt

of his young life — ^the black end. He could! By

Jove! who couldn't? And you must remember he

was a flnished artist in that peculiar way, he was

^***" a gifte d poor devil with the faculty of swtft ,and f ore-

/ ^. st dHiIg v ision, 'ine sights it showed lumTiad turned

'■'' him into TOld stone from the soles of his feet to the

LORD JIM .■-;*fj 97

nape of his neck; but there was a hot dance of t houghts
in his heady a dance oj faftie, b Tinj^ mute tj5iou g j&te|^ y^
whirl of awful cripple^T' ' DMn*f T Cell you He OMii^essed Jh , /
himself before me as though 1 had the power to bmd ^^
and to loose? He burrowed deep, deep, in the hope of
my absolution, which would have been of no good to
him. This was one of those cases which no solemn
deception can paUiate, which no man can help; where
his very Maker seems to abandon a sinner to his
own devices.

*'He stood on the starboard side of the bridge, as
far as he could get from the struggle for the boat,
which went on with the agitation of madness and
the stealthiness of a conspiracy. The two Malays
had meantime remained holding to the wheel. Just
picture to yourselves the actors in that, thank God!
unique, episode of the sea, four beside themselves with
fierce and secret exertions, and three looking on in
complete immobility, above the awnings covering
the profound ignorance of hundreds of human beings,
with their weariness, with their dreams, with their
hopes, arrested, held by an invisible hand on the brink
of annihilation. For that they were so, makes no
doubt to me: given the state of the ship, this was the
deadliest possible description of accident that could
happen. These beggars by the boat had every reason
to go distracted with funk. Frankly, had I been there
I would not have given as much as a counterfeit farth-
ing for the ship's chance to keep above water to the end
of each successive second. And still she floated!
These sleeping pilgrims were destined to accomplish
their whole pilgrimage to the bitterness of some other
end. It was as if l^eO mnipoten ce whose mercy they
confessed had needecl tliSr humble testimony on earth
for a while longer, and had looked down to make a

98 LORD JIM

sign, *Thou shalt not!' to the ocean. Their escape
would trouble me as a prodigiously ine^Iicable event,
did I not know how tpjxgfa old iron can be — ^as tough
sometimes as the spuit of some men we meet now and
then, worn to a shadow and breasting the weight of life.
Not the least wonder of these twenty minutes, to my
mind, is the behaviour of the two helmsmen. They
were amongst the native batch of all sorts brought over
from Aden to give evidence at the inquiry. One of
them, labouring under intense bashfulness, was very
young, and with his smooth, yellow, cheery countenance
looked even younger than he was. I remember per-
fectly Brierly asking him, through the interpreter, what
he thought of it at the time, and the interpreter, after a
short colloquy, turning to the coiui: with an important

*He says he thought nothing.*

The other with patient blinking eyes, a blue
cotton handkerchief, faded with much washing,
bound with a smart twist over a lot of grey wisps,
his face shrunk mto grim hollows, his brown skin
made darker by a mesh of wrinkles, explained that he
had a knowledge of some evil thing befalUng the ship,
but there had been no order; he could not remember
an order; why should he leave the helm? To some
further questions he jerked back his spare shoulders,
and declared it never came into his mind then that
the white men were about to leave the ship through
fear of death. He did not believe it now. There
might have been ses]:fiL .nm o ong r' He wagged his old
chin knowingly. Aha! secret reasons. He was a
man of great experience, and he wanted thcA white
Tuan to know — ^he turned towards Brierly, who
didn't raise his head — that he had acquired a knowl-
edge of many things by serving white men on the

LORD JIM 99

sea for a great number of years — and, suddenly,
with shaky excitement he poured upon our spell-
bound attention a lot of queer-sounding names, names
of dead-and-gone skippers, names of forgotten coim-
try ships, names of famiUar and distorted sound, as
if the hand of dumb time had been at work on them
for ages. They stopped him at last. A silence
fell upon the court, — ^a silence that remained unbroken
for at least a minute, and passed gently into a deep
murmur. This episode was the sensation of the second
day's proceedings — ^affecting all the audience, affecting
everybody except Jim, who was sitting moodily at
the end of the first bench, and never looked up at
this extraordinary and damning witness that seemed
possessed of some mysterious theory of defence.

"So these two lascars stuck to the helm of that
ship without steerage-way, where death would have
found them if such had been their destiny. The
whites did not give them half a glance, had probably
forgotten their existence. Assuredly Jim did not
remember it. He remembered he could do nothing;
he could do nothing, now he was alone. There was
nothing to do but to sink with the ship. No use
making a disturbance about it. Was there? He
waited upstanding, without a sound, stiffened in the
idea of some sort of heroic discretion. The first en-
gineer ran cautiously across the bridge to tug at his
sleeve.

Come aA<(jLhel{U — Eml GodV^sak^A come and help!^
He ran back to the boat on the points of his toes,
and returned directly to worry at his sleeve, begging
and cursing at the same time.

"*I believe he would have kissed my hands,' said
Jim, savagely, ^and, next moment, he starts foaming
and whispering in my face, "K I had the time I would

«<
«

100 LORD JIM

like to crack your skull for you." I pushed him away*
Suddenly he caught hold of me round the neck. Damn
him! I hit him. I hit out without looking. ** Won't
you save your own life — ^you infernal coward?" he
sobs. Coward! He called me an infernal coward!
Ha! ha! ha! ha! He called me — ^ha! ha! ha! • . .'

^^He had thrown himself back and was shaking
with laughter. I had never in my life heard any-
thing so bitter as that noise. It fell like a blight
on all the merriment about donkeys, pyramids, bazaars,
or what not. Along the whole dim length of the
gallery the voices dropped, the pale blotches of faces
turned our way with one accord, and the silence became
so profound that the clear tinkle of a teaspoon falling
on the tesselated floor of the verandah rang out like a
tiny and silvery scream.

*"You mustn't laugh like this, with all these people
about,' I remonstrated. 'It isn't nice for them, you
know.'

'^He gave no sign of having heard at first, but after
a while, with a stare that, missing me altogether,
seemed to probe the heart of some awful vision, he
muttered carelessly — *0h! they'll think I am drunk.'

"And after that you would have thought from
his appearance he would never make a sound again.
But — ^no fear! He could no more stop telling now
than he could have stopped living by the mere exertion
of his will."

CHAPTER NINE

H<

I WAS saying to myself, "Sink — curse you!
Sink!"* These were the words with which he began
again. He wanted it over. He was severely left alone,
and he formulated in his head this address to the ship
in a tone of imprecation, while at the same time he en-
joyed the privilege of witnessing scenes — as far as I can
judge — of low comedy. They were still at that bolt.
The skipper was ordering. *Get under and try to
lift;' and the others naturally shirked. You under-
stand that to be squeezed flat under the keel of a boat
wasn't a desirable position to be caught in if the ship
went down suddenly. *Why don't you — ^you the
strongest?' whined the little engineer. * Gott-f or-dam !
I am too thick,' spluttered the skipper in despair. It
was funny enough to make angels weep. They stood
idle for a moment, and suddenly the chief engineer
rushed again at Jim.

"*Come and help, man! Are you mad to throw
your only chance away? Come and help, man!
Man ! Look there — ^look I '

"And at last Jim looked astern where the other
pointed with maniacal insistence. He saw a silent
black squall which had eaten up abeady one-third of
the sky. You know how these squalls come up there
about that time of the year. First you see a darken-
ing of the horizon — ^no more; then a cloud rises opaque
like a wall. A straight edge of vapour lined with
sickly whitish gleams flies up from the southwest,
swallowing the stars in whole constellations; its shadow

101

102 LORD JIM

flies over the waters, and confounds sea and sky into
one abyss of obscurity. And all is still. No thunder,
no wind, no sound; not a flicker of lightning. Then in
the tenebrous immensity a livid arch appears; a swell or
two like undulations of the very darkness run past, and
suddenly, wind and rain strike together with a peculiar
impetuosity as if they had burst through something
solid. Such a cloud had come up while they weren't
looking. They had just noticed it, and were perfectly
justified in surmising that if in absolute stillness there
was some chance for the ship to keep afloat a few
minutes longer, the least disturbance of the sea would
make an end of her instantly. Her first nod to the
swell that precedes the burst of such a squall would be
also her last, would become a plunge, would, so to
speak, be prolonged into a long dive, down, down to the
bottom. Hence these new capers of their fright, these
new antics in which they displayed their extreme
aversion to die.

"*It was black, black,* pursued Jim with moody
steadiness. *It had sneaked upon us from behind.
The infernal thing! I suppose there had been at the
back of my head some hope yet. I don't know. But
that was all over anyhow. It maddened me to see
myself caught like this. I was angry, as though I
had been trapped. I was trapped! The night was
hot, too, I remember. Not a breath of air.*

"He remembered so well that, gasping in the chair,
he seemed to sweat and choke before my eyes. No
doubt it maddened him; it knocked him over afresh —
in a manner of speaking — ^but it made him also re-
member that important purpose which had sent him
rushing on that bridge only to slip clean out of his mind.
He had intended to cut the life-boats clear of the ship.
He whipped out his knife and went to work slashing as

^

LORD JIM 103

though he had seen nothing, had heard nothing, had
known of no one on board. They thought him hope-
lessly wrong-headed and crazy, but dared not protest
noisily against this useless loss of time. When he had
done he returned to the very same spot from which he
had started. The chief was there, ready with a clutch
at him to whisper close to his head, scathhigly, as though
he wanted to bite his ear —

"*You silly fool! do you think you'll get the ghost
of a show when all that lot of brutes is in the water?
Why, they will batter your head for you from these
boats.*

"He wrung his hands, ignored, at Jim*s elbow.
The skipper kept up a nervous shuffle in one place
and mumbled, 'Hammer! hammer! Mein Gott! Get
ahjpjnmer.*

^^2U^P~ little engineer whimpejffijj J2ke,,a--Cliildril>ut
broken arm and all, he turned out the least craven
of the lot as it seems, and, actually, mustered enough
pluck to run an errand to the engine-room. No trifle,
it must be owned in fairness to him. Jim told me he
darted desperate looks like a cornered man, gave one
low wail, and dashed off. He was back instantly
clambering, hammer in hand, and without a pause
flung himself at the bolt. The others gave up Jim
at once and ran off to assist. He heard the tap,
tap of the hammer, the sound of the released chock
falling over. The boat was clear. Only then he
turned to look — only then. But he kept his distance
— ^he kept his distance. He wanted me to know he
had kept his distance; that there was nothing in
common between him and these men — who had the
hammer. Nothing whatever. It is more than prob-
able he thought himself cut off from them by a space
that could not be traversed, by an obstacle that could

^

104 LORD JIM

not be overcome, by' a chasm without bottom. /He
was as far as he coiiU get from theiri^^fEe'^X^hole
breadth of the ship.

**His feet were glued to that remote spot and his
eyes to their indistinct group bowed together and
swaying strangely in the conmion torment of fear.
A hand-lamp lashed to a stanchion above a little
table rigged up on the bridge — ^the PcAna had no
chart-room amidships — ^threw a Ught on their labour-
ing shoulders, on their arched and bobbing backs.
They pushed at the bow of the boat; they pushed
out into the night; they pushed, and would no more
look back at him. They had given him up as if in-
deed he had been too far, too hopelessly separated
from themselves, to be worth an appealhig word, a
glance, or a sign. They had no leisure to look back
upon his passive heroism, to feel the sting of his ab-
stention. The boat was heavy; they pushed at the
bow with no breath to spare for an encouraging word:
but the turmoil of terror that had scattered their
self-control like chaff before the wind, converted their
desperate exertions into a bit of fooling, upon my word
fit for knockabout clowns in a farce. They pushed with
their hands, with their heads, they pushed for dear life
with all the weight of their bodies, they pushed with all
the might of their souls — only no sooner had they
succeeded in canting the stem clear of the davit than
they would leave off like one man and start a wild
scramble into her. As a natural consequence the boat
would swing in abruptly, driving them ba<*k, helpless
and jostUng against each other. They would stand
nonplussed for a while, exchanging in fierce whispers all
the infamous names they could call to mind, and go at
it again. Three times this occurred. He described
it to me with morose thoughtfulness. He hadn't

LORD JIM 105

lost a single movement of that comic business. *I
loathed them. I hated them. I had to look at all
that,' he said without emphasis, turning upon me a
sombrely watchful glance. * Was ever there any one
so shamefully .tiied!/.

^^He took his head in his hands for a moment, like
a man driven to distraction by some unspeakable
outrage. These were things he could not explain to
the court — ^and not even to me; but I would have
been little fitted for the reception of his confidences
had I not been able at times to understand the pauses
between the words. In this assault upon his forti-
tude there was the jeering intention of a spiteful and
vile vengeance; there was an element of burlesque in
his ordeal— a degradation of funny grimaces in the
approach of death or dishonour.

"He related facts which I have not forgotten, but
at this distance of time I couldn't recall his very
words: I only remember that he managed wonder-
fully to convey the brooding rancour of his mind
into the bare recital of events. Twice, he told me,
he shut his eyes in the certitude that the end was upon
him already, and twice he had to open them again.
Each time he noted the darkening of the great still-
ness. The shadow of the silent cloud had fallen upon
the ship from the zenith, and seemed to have extin-
guished every sound of her teeming life. He could no
longer hear the voices under the awnings. He told me
that each time he closed his eyes a flash of thought
showed him that crowd of bodies, laid out for death, as
plain as daylight. When he opened them, it was to
see the dim struggle of four men fighting like mad with a
stubborn boat. *They would fall back before it time
after time, stand swearing at each other, and suddenly
make another rush in a bunch. . . . Enough to

106 LORD JIM

make you die laughing/ he commented with downcast
eyes; then raising them for a moment to my face with a
dismal smile, *I ought to have a merry life of it, by God!
for I shall see that funny sight a good many times
yet before I die/ His eyes fell again. *See and
hear. . . . See and hear/ he repeated twice, at long
intervals, fiUed by vacant staring.

**He roused himself.

"*I made up my mind to keep my eyes shut,* he
said, *and I couldn't. I couldn't, and I don't care
who knows it. Let them go through that kind of
thing before they talk. Just let them — and do better
— that's all. The second time my eyelids flew open
and my mouth too. I had felt the ship move. She
just dipped her bows — ^and lifted them gently — and
slow! everlastingly slow; and ever so little. She hadn't
done that much for days. The cloud had raced ahead,
and this first swell seemed to travel upon a sea of lead.
There was no life in that stir. It managed, though, to
knock over something in my head. What would you
have done? You are sure of yourself — ^aren't you?
What would you do if you felt now — ^this minute — the
house here move, just move a Uttle under your chair.
Leap! By heavens! you would take one spring from
where you sit and land in that clump of bushes yonder.*

**He flung his arm out at the night beyond the
stone balustrade. I held my peace. He looked at
me very steadily, very severe. There could be no
mistake: I was being bullied now, and it behoved
me to make no sign lest by a gesture or a word I should
be drawn into a fatal admission about myself which
would have had some bearing on the case. I was
not disposed to take any risk of that sort. Don't
forget I had him before me, and really he was too
much like one of us not to be dangerous. But if you

LORD JIM 107

want to know I don't mind telling you that I did,
with a rapid glance, estimate the distance to the
mass of denser blackness in the middle of the grass
plot before the verandah. He exaggerated. I would
have landed short by several feet — ^and that's the
only thing of which I am fairly certain.

''The last moment had come, as he thought, and
he did not move. His feet remained glued to the
planks if his thoughts were knocking about loose
in his head. It was at this moment, too, that he saw
one of the men around the boat step backwards sud-
denly, clutch at the air with raised arms, totter and
collapse. He didn't exactly fall, he only slid gently
into a sitting posture, all hunched up and with his
shoulders propped against the side of the engine-
room skylight. 'That was the donkey-man. A hag-
gard, white-faced chap with a ragged moustache.
Acted third engineer,' he explamed.

"'Dead,' I said. We had heard something of that
in court.

"'So they say,' he pronounced with sombre indif-
ference. 'Of course I never knew. Weak heart.
The man had been complaining of being out of sorts
for some time before. Excitement. Over-exertion.
Devil only knows. Ha! ha! ha! It was easy to see
he did not want to die either. Droll, isn't it? May
I be shot if he hadn't been fooled into killing himself!
Fooled — ^neither more nor less. Fooled into it, by
heavens! just as I . • . Ah! If he had only kept
still; if he had only told them to go to the devil when
they came to rush him out of his bimk because the
ship was sinking! If he had only stood by with
his hands in his pockets and called them names ! '

*'He got up, shook his fist, glared at me, and sat
down.

108 LORD JIM

*A chance missed, eh?' I murmured.
*Why don't you laugh?' he said. *A joke hatched
in hell. Weak heart! ... I wish sometimes mine
had been/

"This irritated me. *Do you?* I exclaimed with
deep-rooted irony. *YesI Can't you understand?'
he cried. *I don't know what more you could wish
for,' I said, angrily. He gave me an utterly uncom-
prehending glance. This shaft had also gone wide
of the mark, and he was not the man to bother about
stray arrows. Upon my word, he was too imsuspect-
ing; he was not fair game. I was glad that my missile
had been thrown away, — ^that he had not even heard
the twang of the bow.

"Of course he could not know at the time the man
was dead. The next minute — his last on board —
was crowded with a tumult of events and sensations
which beat about him like the sea upon a rock. I
use the simile advisedly, because from his relation I
am forced to believe he had preserved through it all
a strange illusion of passiveness, as though he had
not acted but had suffered himself to be handled by
the infernal powers who had selected him for the
victim of their practical joke. The first thing that
came to him was the grinding surge of the heavy
davits swinging out at last — a jar which seemed to
enter his body from the deck through the soles of his
feet, and travel up his spine to the crown of his head.
Then, the squall being very near now, another and a
heavier swell lifted the passive hull in a threatening
heave that checked his breath, while his brain and
his heart together were pierced as with daggers by
panic-stricken screams. *Let go! For God's sake,
let go! Let go! She's going.' Following upon that
the boat-falls ripped through the blocks, and a lot

LORD JIM 109

of men began to talk in startled tones under the awn-
ings. *Wlien these beggars did break out, their
yelps were enough to wake the dead/ he said. Next
after the splashing shock of the boat literally dropped
in the water, came the hollow noises of stamping
and tumbUng in her, mingled with confused shouts:
* Unhook! Unhook! Shove! Unhook! Shove for your
life! Here's the squall down on us. . . / He
heard, high above his head, the faint muttering of
the wind; he heard below his feet a cry of pain. A
lost voice alongside started cursing a swivel hook.
The ship began to buzz fore and aft like a disturbed
hive, and, as quietly as he was telling me all of this
— ^because just then he was very quiet in attitude, in
face, in voice — ^he went on to say without the slightest
warning as it were, *I stumbled over his legs.*

**This was the first I heard of his having moved
at all. I could not restrain a grunt of surprise. Some-
thing had started him off at last, but of the exact mo-
ment, of the cause that tore him out of his immobiUty,
he knew no more than the uprooted tree knows of the
wind that laid it low. All this had come to him: the
sounds, the sights, the legs of the dead man — ^by Jove!
The infernal joke was being crammed deviUshly down
his throat, but — ^look you — ^he was not going to admit of
any sort of swallowing motion in his gullet. It's
extraordinary how he could cast upon you the spirit of
his illusion. I Ustened as if to a tale of black magic at
work upon a corpse.

"*He went over sideways, very gently, and this
is the last thing I remember seeing on board,' he con-
tinued. *I did not care what he did. It looked
as though he were picking himself up: I thought he
was picking himself up, of course: I expected him to
bolt past me over the rail and drop into the boat

110 LORD JIM

alter the others. I could hear them knocking about,
down there, and a voice as if crying up a shaft called
out "George." Then three voices together raised
a yell. They came to me separately: one bleated,
another screamed, one howled. Ough ! '

"He shivered a Kttle, and I beheld him rise slowly
as if a steady hand from above had been puUing him
out of the chair by his hair. Up, slowly — to his full
height, and when his knees had locked stiff the hand
let him go, and he swayed a Uttle on his feet. There
was a suggestion of awful stillness in his face, in his
movements, in his very voice when he said *They
shouted* — ^and involuntarily I pricked up my ears
for the ghost of that shout that would be heard directly
through the false effect of silence. * There were eight
hundred people in that ship,* he said, impaling me to
the back of my seat with an awful blank stare. 'Eight
Jmndred living people, and they were yelling after the
one dead man to come down and be saved. "Jump,
Genrf ^ef JlimpI VJ^t jnTn]T^** I stood by with my
[and on the davit. I was very quiet. It had come
over pitch dark. You could see neither sky nor sea. I
heard the boat alongside go bump, bump, and not
another sound down there for a while, but the ship
imder me was full of talking noises. Suddenly the
skipper howled, "Mein Gott! The squall! The
squidl! Shove off!" With the first hiss of rain, and
the first gust of wind, they screamed, "Jump, George!
We'll catch you! Jiunp!" The ship began a slow
plunge; the rain swept over her like a broken sea;
my cap flew off my head; my breath was driven back
into my throat. I heard as if I had been on the top of
a tower another wild screech, " Geo-o-o-orge ! Oh,
jump!" She was going down, down, head first imder
me* • •

k

LORD JIM 111

"He raised his hand deliberately to his face, and
made picking motions with his fingers as though he
had been bothered with cobwebs, and afterwards he
looked into the open palm for quite half a second
before he blurted out —

" * I l^^j^pjTnp^^ .* He checked himself, averted

his gaze. . . . *It seems,' he added.

"His clear blue eyS*TuKied to me with a piteous
stare, and looking at him standing before me, dum-
founded and hurt, I was oppressed by a sad sense
of resigned wisdom, mingled with the amused and
profound pity of an old man helpless before a childish
disaster. . .
"^ '"^Xooks like it,' I muttered.

"*I knew nothing about it till I looked up,* he
explained, hastily. And that's possible, too. You
had to listen to him as you would to a small boy in
trouble. He didn't know. It had happened some-
how. It would never happen again. He had landed
partly on somebody and fallen across a thwart. He
felt as though all his ribs on his left side must be
broken; then he rolled over, and saw vaguely the
ship he had deserted uprising above him, with the
red side-Ught glowing large in the rain like a fire on
the brow of a hill seen through a mist. ^She seemed
higher than a wall; she loomed like a cliff over the
boat. ... I wished I could die,' he cried. * There
was no going 15ack.' It was as if L had, jumped intQ .
a well— into an everlasting deep hole. • •

fy$

1

(
•

I

1

CHAPTER TEN

**He locked his fingers together and tore them apart.
NotbJpg Cftuldjbg jmore tme/lSieTiad mdeed jumped
into an everlasting deep hole. \ He had tumbled
from a h^ght he could never scale again^ By that
fSoae the boat had gone driving forward past the bows.
It was too dark just then for them to see each other,
and, moreover, they were blinded and half drowned
with rain. He told me it was like being swept by a
flood through a cavern. They turned their backs to
the squall; the skipper, it seems, got an oar over the
stem to keep the boat before it, and for two or three
minutes the end of the world had come through a
deluge in a pitchy blackness. The sea hissed 'like
twenty thousand kettles.' That's his simile, not mine.
I fancy there was not much wind after the first gust;
and he himself had admitted at the inquiry that the sea
never got up that night to any extent. He crouched
down in the bows and stole a furtive glance back.
He saw just one yellow gleam of the masthead light
high up and blurred like a last star ready to dissolve.
*It terrified me to see it still there,' he said. That's
what he said. What terrified him was the thought that
the drowning was not over yet. No doubt he wanted to
be done with that abomination as quickly as possible.
Nobody in the boat made a sound. In the dark she
seemed to fly, but of course she could not have had much
way. Then the shower swept ahead, and the great,
distracting, hissing noise followed the rain into distance
and died out. There was nothing to be heard then but

112

LORD JIM 113

the slight wash about the boat's sides. Somebody's
teeth were chattering violently. A hand touched his
back. A faint voice said, *You there?* Another cried
out, shakily, * She's gone!' and they all stood up to-
gether to look astern. They saw no Ughts. All
was black. A thin cold drizzle was driving into
their faces. The boat lurched slightly. The teeth
chattered faster, stopped, and began again twice
before the man could master his shiver suflSciently to
say, *Ju-ju-st in ti-ti-me. . . . Brrrr.' He recog-
nised the voice of the chief engineer saying surlily,
*I saw her go down. I happened to turn my head.*
The wind had dropped almost completely.

"They watched in the dark with their heads half
tiu-ned to windward as if expecting to hear cries.
At first he was thankful the night had covered up
the scene before his eyes, and then to know of it and
yet to have seen and heard nothing appeared some-
how the culminating-point of an awful misfortune.
* Strange, isn't it?' he murmured, interrupting him-
self in his disjointed narrative,

"It did not seem so strange Jtame._/B[e must have

'-. ' had an unconscious conviction that tne reality could

not be half as bad, not half as anguishing, appalling,

i and vengeful as the created terror of his imagina-

/ t ion. ( T believe' that; in this first moment, his heart

^'"was wrung with all the suffering, that his soul knew

the accumulated savour of all the fear, all the horror,

all the despair of eight hundred human beings pounced

upon in the night by a sudden and violent death,

else why should he have said, *It seemed to me that

I must jump out of that accursed boat and swim back

to see — ^half a mile — more — any distance — to the very

spot ... '? Why this impulse? Do you see the

significance? Why back to the very spot? Why not

114 LORD JIM

drown alongside — ^if he meant drowning? why back to
the very spot, to see — ^as if his imagination had to be
soothed by the assurance that all was over before death
could bring relief? I defy any one of you to ofl[gr
another explanation. It was one of those bizarr^
(jand exciting glimpses through the fogj^lt was an
extraordinary disclosure. He let it out as the most
natural thing one could say. He fought down that
impulse and then he became conscious of the silence.
He mentioned this to me. A silence of the sea, of
the sky, merged into one indefinite immensity still
as death aroimd these saved, palpitating lives. ^You
might have heard a pin drop in the boat,' he said
with a queer contraction of his lips, like a man trying
to master his sensibilities while relating some ex-
tremely moving fact. A silence! God alone, who
had willed him as he was, knows what he made of
it in his heart. ^I didn't think any spot on earth
could be so still,' he said. *You couldn't distinguish
the sea from the sky; there was nothing to see and
nothing to hear. Not a glinnner, not a shape, not a
sound. You could have believed that every bit of
dry land had gone to the bottom; that every man on
earth but I and these beggars in the boat had got
drowned.' He leaned over the table with his knuckles
propped amongst coffee-cups, liqueur-glasses, cigar-
ends. *I seemed to believe it. Everything was gone
and — ^all was over . . .' he fetched a deep sigh
... * with me.' "

Marlow sat up abruptly and flung away his cheroot
with force. It made a darting red trail like a toy
rocket fired through the drapery of creepers. Nobody
stirred.

"Hey, what do you think of it?" he cried with
sudden animation. "Wasn't Jbie tnie .to.^ himself ,

h

LORD JIM 116

wasn't he? His saved life was over for want of ground
liSHeiTisTeet, for want of sights for his eyes, for want of
voices in his ears. Annihilation — ^hey! And all the
time it was only a clouded sky, a sea that did not break,
the air that did not stir. Only a night; only a silence.
"It lasted for a while, and then they were sud-
denly and unanimously moved to make a noise over
their escape. *I knew from the first she would go.'
*Not a minute too soon.' *A narrow squeak, b'gosh!'
He said nothing, but the breeze that had dropped
came back, a gentle draught freshened steadily, and
the sea joined its murmiuing voice to this talkative
reaction succeeding the dumb moments of awe. She
was gone! She was gone! Not a doubt of it. No-
body could have TielpedT "TBSy^lrepeatec^^ same
words over and over again as though they couldn't
stop themselves. Never doubted she would go. The
lights were gone. No mistake. The lights were
gone. Couldn't expect anything else. She had to
go. . . . He noticed that they talked as though
they had left behind them nothing but an empty
ship. They concluded she would not have been
long when she once started. It seemed to cause them
some sort of satisfaction. They assured each other
that she couldn't have been long about it — *Just
shot down like a flat-iron.' The chief engineer de-
clared that the masthead light at the moment of
sinking seemed to drop *like a lighted match you
throw down.' At this the second laughed hysterically.
*I am g-g-glad, I am gla-a-a-d.' His teetili went on
^like an electric rattle,' said Jim, ^and all at once he
began to cry. He wept and blubbered like a child,
catching his breath and sobbing. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!
oh, dear!" He would be quiet for a while and start
suddenly, "Oh, my poor arm! oh, my poor a-a-a-arm!"

r

L

lie LORD JIM

I felt I could knock him down. Some of them sat in the
stem-sheets. I could just make out their shapes.
Voices came to me, mumble, mumble, grunt, grunt.
All this seemed very hard to bear. I was cold, too.
And I could do nothing. I thought that if I moved I
would have to go over the side and . . .'

"His hand groped stealthily, came in contact with
a liqueur-glass, and was withdrawn suddenly as if it
had touched a red-hot coal. I pushed the bottle
slightly. * Won't you have some more?' I asked.
He looked at me angrily. * Don't you think I can tell
you what there is to tell without screwing myself up?'
he asked. The squad of globe-trotters had gone to bed.
We were alone but for a vague white form erect in the
shadow, that, being looked at, cringed forward, hesitated,
backed away silently. It was getting late, but I did
not hurry my guest.

"In tlie midst of his forlorn state he heard his
companions begin to abuse some one. ^What kept
you from jumping, you lunatic?' said a scolding
voice. The chief engineer left the stem-sheets, and
could be heard clambering forward as if with hostile
intentions against *the greatest idiot that ever was.'
The skipper shouted with rasping effort offensive
epithets from where he sat at the oars. He lifted his
head at that uproar, and heard the name ^George,'
whil e a hand in the dark struck him on the breast.
*What have you got to say for yourself, you fool?'
queried somebody, with a sort of virtuous fury. *They
were after me,' he said. *They were abusing me —
abusing me. . • by the name of Ge orge^

"**He paused to stare, tneil^o smile, turned his eyes
away and went on. *That little second puts his head
right under my nose, "Why, it's that blasted mate!"
"What!" howls the skipper from the other end of

k

LORD JIM 117

the boat. "No!" shrieks the chief. And he, too,
stopped to look at my face.'

"The wind had left the boat suddenly. The rain
began to fall again, and the soft, uninterrupted, a
little mysterious sound with which the sea receives a
shower arose on all sides in the night. *They were
too taken aback to say anything more at first,' he
narrated steadily, *and what could I have to say to
them?' He faltered for a moment, and made an
effort to go on. ^Th^y /^gjlgd me horrible names.^ ""7

LS voice, smking to a whisper, now and then would
leap up suddenly, hardened by the passion of scorn,
as though he had been talking of secret abominations.
*Never mind what they called me,' he said, grimly.
*I coidd hear hate in their voices. A good thing, too.
They could not forgive me for being in that boat.
They hated it. It made them mad. . . .' He
laughed short. . . . *But it kept me from — ^Look!
I was sitting with my arms crossed, on the gunwale!
. . .' He perched himself smartly on the edge of the
table and crossed his arms. . . . *Like this — see?
One Uttle tilt backwards and I would have been gone
— after the others. One Kttle tilt — ^the least bit — ^the
least bit.' He frowned, and tapping his forehead
with the tip of his middle finger, *It was there all the
time,' he said, impressively. *A11 the time — ^that
notion. And the rain — cold, thick, cold as melted
snow — colder — on my thin cotton clothes — ^I'U never
be so cold again in my life, I know. And the sky
was black, too — all black. Not a star, not a light any-
where. Nothing outside that confounded boat and
those two yapping before me like a couple of mean
mongrels at a tree'd thief. Yap! yap! "What you
doing here? You're a fine sort! Too much of a
bloomin' gentleman to put his hand to it. Come out of

118 LORD JIM

your trance, did you? To sneak in? Did you? " Yap !

yap! "You ain't fit to live!" Yap! yap! Two of

them together trying to out-bark each other. The

other would bay from the stem through the rain —

couldn't see him — couldn't make out — some of his

filthy jargon. Yap! yap! Bow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Yap!

^^ygBtJ/ It was sweet to hear them; it kept me alive,

J itell you. It saved my life. At it they went, as if

/ trying to drive me overboard with the noise! . . .

^ - "I wonder you had pluck enough to jump. You ain't

wanted here. If I had known who it was, I would

have tipped you over — ^you skimk. What have you

done with the other? J^ere did you get the pluck to

jump— you cowayd? Whatsis to privSatlirtlnPCe-irom

mring you overboard?" . . • They were out of

breath; the shower passed away upon the sea. Then

nothing. ^ There was nothing roimd the boat, not even a

sound.^/Wanted to see me overboard, did they? Upon

r " ffiy soul! I think they woidd have had their wish if

I they had only kept quiet. Fire me overboard ! Would

they? "Try," I said. "I woidd for twopence."

"Too good for you," they screeched together. It was

so dark that it was only when one or the other of them

moved that I was quite sure of seeing him. By

heavens! I only wish they had tried.'

"I coiddn't help exclaiming, *What an extraordinary
aflfair!'

" *Not bad — eh? ' he said, as if in some sort astounded.
*They pretended to think I had done away with that
donkey-man for some reason or other. Why should I?
And how the devil was I to know? Didn't I get some-
how into that boat? into that boat — ^I . . •' The
muscles round his lips contracted into an imconscious
grimace that tore through the mask of his usual ex-
pression — something violent, short-lived, and illuminat-

\

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^f<j.

LORD JIM 119

ing like a twist of lightning that admits the eye for an
instant into the secret convolutions of a cloud. *I did.
I was plainly there with them — ^wasn't I? Isn't it awful
a man should be driven to do a thing like that — ^and be
responsible? What did I know about their George they
were howling after? I remembered I had seen him
curied up on the deck. " Murdering coward ! " the chief
kept on calling me. He didn't seem able to remember
any other two words. I didn't care, only his noise
began to worry me. "Shut up," I said. At that
he collected himself for a confoimded screech. "You
kiUed him. You kiUed him." "No," I shouted,
"but I will kill you directly." I jumped up, and he
fell backwards over a thwart with an awful loud
thump. I don't know why. Too dark. Tried to
step back, I suppose. I stood still facing aft, and the
wretched little second began to whine, "You ain't
going to hit a chap with a broken arm — ^and you call
yourself a gentleman, too." I heard a heavy tramp
— one — ^two — ^and wheezy grunting. The other beast
was coming at me, clattering his oar over the stem.
I saw him moving, big, big — as you see a man in
a mist, in a dream. "Come on," I cried. I woidd
have tumbled him over like a bale of shakings. He
stopped, muttered to himself, and went back. Per-
haps he had heard the wind. I didn't. It was the
last heavy gust we had. He went back to his oar,
I was sorry. I woidd have tried to— to . . .'

"He opened and closed his curved fingers, and his
hands had an eager and cruel flutter. * Steady, steady/
I murmured.

"*Eh? What? I am not excited,' he remon-
strated, awfully hurt, and with a convulsive jerk of
his elbow knocked over the cognac-bottle. I started
forward, scraping my chair. He bounced oflf the

I

t

I

V,

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120 LORD JIM

table as if a mine had been exploded behind his back,
and half turned before he alighted, crouching on his
feet to show me a startled pair of eyes and a face
white about the nostrils. A look of intense annoy-
ance succeeded. ^AwfuDy sorry. How clumsy of
me!' he mumbled very vexed, while the pungent
odour of spilt alcohol enveloped us suddenly with an
atmosphere of a low drinking-bout in the cool, pure
darkness of the night. The lights had been put out
in the dining-hall; our candle glinnnered solitary in
the long gallery, and the colunms had turned black
from pediment to capital. On the vivid stars the
high comer of the Harbour OflSce stood out distinct
across the Esplanade, as though the sombre pile had
gUded nearer to see and hear.

*'He assumed an air of indifference.

"*I dare say I am less calm now than I was then.
I was ready for anything. These were trifles. . . .'

"*You had a lively time of it in that boat,' I re-
marked.^

"*I was ready,' he repeated. * After the ship's
lights had gone, anything might have happened in
that boat — ^anything in the world — ^and the world no
wiser. I felt this, and I was pleased. It was just
dark enough, too. We were like men walled up quick
in a roomy grave. No concern with anything on
earth. Nobody to pass an opinion. Nothing mat-
tered.' For the third time during this conversation
he laughed harshly, but there was no one about to
suspect him of being only drunk. *No fear, no law,
no^sounds, no eyes — ^not even our own, till — ^till simrise
at least.'

"I was struck by the suggestive truth of his words.
There is something peculiar in a small boat upon
the wide sea. Over the lives borne from under the

\ •■.^.\ i. J

LORD JIM 121

shadow of death there seems to fall the shadow of "^
madness. When your ship fails you, your whole
world seems to fail you; the world that made you, t
restrained you, taken care of you. flR^^as^TES^
souls of men floating on an abyss and in touch with
immensity had been set free for any excess of heroism,
absurdity, or abomination. Of course, as with belief,

thought, love, hate, conviction, or even the visual .

aspect of material things, there SfJ^SLjag^. many ship- ^
J^^egka^jas^JJiere are men, and in this one tEere'''WttSr^^ '
something abject^^^wEch made the isolation more
complete — there was a villainy of circumstances that
cut these men oflF more completely from the rest
of mankind, whose ideal of conduct had never imder-
gone the trial of a fiendish and appalling joke. They
were exasperated with him for being a half-hearted
shirker: he focussed on them his hatred of the whole
thing; he would have liked to take a signal revenge jk
for the abhorrent opportunity they had put in his v;^^
way. Trust a boat on the high seas to bring out thex(t*^
I rrationa l that lurks at the bot tom of ev ery thought, ^
sentiment, sensation, emotion. '^It was "part" oTffiS — 7:7
burlesque meanness pervamhg that particular dis-
aster at sea that they did not come to blows. It was
all threats, all a terribly eflFective feint, a sham from
.^--beginning to^nd, planned by the tremendous disdain /«..,
, of the Dark Powers whose rea l terrors , always on the <^
verge of triumph, are perpetually ^ ^^^%^ , ^ 7 ^^^ ste adr ,
fastness pLjueikr I asked, after waitmg Tor a while,
^WeHTwh^t happened?' A futile question. I knew
too much' already to hope for the grace of a single
uplifting/ touch, for the favour of hinted madness,
of shad/6wed horror. 'Nothing,' he said. *I meant
busine^^, but they meant noise only. Nothing hap-
penedi*

f

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I

122 LORD JIM

*^ And the rising sim found him just as he had jumped
up first in the bows of the boat. What a persistence of
readiness! He had been holding the tiller in his hand,
too, all the night. They had dropped the*srudder over-
board while attempting to ship it, and I suppose the
tiller got kicked forward somehow while tliey were
rushing up and down that boat trying to do all sorts of
things at once so as to get clear of the side. It was a
long heavy piece of hard wood, and apparently he had
been clutching it for six hours or so. If you don't call
that being ready ! Can you imagine him, silent and on
his feet half the night, his face to the gusts of rain,
staring at sombre forms, watchful of vague movements,
straining his ears to catch rare low murmurs in the stem-
sheets! Firmness of courage or effort of fear? What
do you think? And the endurance is imdeniable, too.
Six hours more or less on the defensive; six hours
of alert immobiUty while the boat drove slowly or
floated arrested according to the caprice of the wind;
while the sea, calmed, slept at last; while the, clouds
passed above his head; while the sky from an im-
mensity lustreless and black, diminished to a sombre
and lustrous vault, scintillated with a greater bril-
Uance, faded to the east, paled at the zenith; while
the dark shapes blotting the low stars astern got out-
lines, relief; became shoidders, heads, faces, features,
— confronted him with dreary stares, had dishevelled
hair, torn clothes, blinked red eyelids at the white
dawn. *They looked as though they had been knock-
ing about drunk in gutters for a week,' he described
graphically; and then he muttered something about the
sunrise being of a kind that foretells a calm day. You
know that sailor habit of referring to the weather in
every connection. And on my side his few mumbled
words were enough to make me see the lower limb of the

LORD JIM 123

siin clearing the line of the horizon, the tremble of a vast
ripple running over all the visible expanse of the sea,
as if the waters had shuddered, giving birth to the globe
of light, while the last puflF of the breeze would stir the
air in a sigh of reUef.

"*They sat in the stem shoulder to shoidder, with
the skipper in the middle, like three dirty owls, and
stared at me,' I heard him say with an intention of
hate that distilled a corrosive virtue into the common-
place words like a drop of powerful poison falling
into a glass of water; but my thoughts dwelt upon
that sunrise. I could imagine under the pellucid
emptiness of the sky these four men imprisoned in
the soKtude of the sea, the lonely sun, regardless of
the speck of life, ascending the clear curve of the
heaven as if to gaze ardently from a greater height
at his own splendour reflected in the still ocean. *They
called out to me from aft,' said Jim, ^as though we had
been chums together. I heard them. They were
begging me to be sensible and drop that "blooming
piece of wood." Why would I carry on so? They
hadn't done me any harm — ^had they? There had been
no harm. . . . No harm ! '

"His face crimsoned as though he coidd not get
rid of the air in his lungs.

"*No harm!' he burst out. *I leave it to you.
You can understand. Can't you? You see it —
don't you? No harm ! Good Grod ! What more could
they have done? Oh, yes, I know very well — ^I jumped.
Certainly. I jumped! I told you I jumped; but I
tell you they were too much for any man. It was their
doing as plainly as if they had reached up with a boat-
hook and pulled me over. Can't you see it? You
must see it. Come. Speak — straight out.'

"His uneasy eyes fastened upon mine, questioned,

124 LORD JIM

begged, challenged, entreated. For the life of me
I couldn't help murmuring, *^uVe been tried/
JJVfarc thniH in fnir/ he caught up, swiftly. *1 wasn^t
given half a chance — ^with a gang like that. And
now they were friendly — oh, so damnably friendly!
Chums, shipmates. All in the same boat. Make
the best of it. They hadn't meant anything. They
didn't care a hang for George. George had gone
back to his berth for something at the last moment
and got caught. The man was a manifest fool. Very
sad, of course. . . . Their eyes looked at me;
their lips moved; they wagged their heads at the
other end of the boat — three of them; they beck-
oned — ^to me. Why not? Hadn't I jumped? I
said nothing. There are no words for the sort of
things I wanted to say* If P*^had opened my lips
just then I would have simply howled like an ani-
mal. I was asking myself when I would wake up.
They urged me aloud to come aft and hear quietly
what the skipper had to say. We were sure to be
picked up before the evening — bright in the track of
all the Canal traiBSc; there was smoke to the north-
west now.

"*It gave me an awful shock to see this faint, faint
blur, this low trail of brown mist through which you
could see the boundary of sea and sky. I called out to
them that I coidd hear very well where I was. The
skipper started swearing, as hoarse as a crow. He
wasn't going to talk at the top of his voice for my
accommodation. "Are you afraid they will hear you on
shore? " I asked. He glared as if he would have liked to
claw me to pieces. The chief engineer advised him to
humour me. He said I wasn't right in my head yet.
The other rose astern, like a thick pillar of flesh — and
talked — ^talked. . . .'

LORD JIM 125

"Jim remained thoughtful. *Well?' I said. *What
did I care what story they agreed to make up?' he cried,
recklessly. *They coidd tell what they jolly well liked.
It was their business. I knew the story. Nothing
they could make people beUeve could alter it for me.
I let him talk, argue — ^talk, argue. He went on and on
and on. Suddenly I felt my legs give way under me.
I was sick, tired — ^tired to death. I let fall the tiller,
turned my back on them, and sat down on the foremost
thwart. I had enough. They called to me to know if
I understood — ^wasn't it true, every word of it? It was
true, by God! after their fashion. I did not turn
my head. I heard them palavering together. "The
silly ass won't say anything." "Oh, he understands
well enough." "Let him be; he will be all right."
"What can he do? " What could I do? Weren't we all
in the same boat? I tried to be deaf. The smoke had
disappeared to the northward. It was a dead calm.
They had a drink from the water-breaker, and I drank,
too. Afterwards they made a great business of spread-
ing the boat-sail over the gunwales. Would I keep a
look-out? They crept under, out of my sight, thank
God! I felt weary, weary, done up, as if I hadn't
had one hour's sleep since the day I was bom. I
couldn't see the water for the glitter of the sunshine.
From time to time one of them would creep out,
stand up to take a look all round, and get under again.
I could hear spells of snoring below the sail. Some of
them could sleep. One of them at least. I couldn't!
All was light, Ught, and the boat seemed to be falling
through it. Now and then I would feel quite surprised
to find myself sitting on a thwart. . . .*

"He began to walk with measured steps to and
fro before my chair, one hand in his trousers-pocket,
his head bent thoughtfully, and his right arm at

ISe LOBD JIM

Vmg intervab ndsed for a gesture that seemed to put
out of his way an invisible intruder.

***I suppose you think I was going mad,' he began
in a changed Ume. *And well you may, if you re-
member I had lost my cap. Tlie sun crept all the
wi^ from east to west over my bare head, but that
di^ I could not come to any harm, I suppose. The
sun could not make me mad. • • / His right arm
put aside the idea of madness. • . • * Neither could
it kill me. • • / Again his arm repulsed a shadow.
• • . * That rested with me.'

***Did it?' I said, inexpressibly amazed at this
new turn, and I looked at him with the same sort
of feeling I might be fairly conceived to experience
had he, after spinning roimd on his heel, presented
an altogether new face.

"*I didn't get brain fever, I did not drop dead
either,' he went on. ^I didn't bother myself at all
about the sun over my head. I was thinking as
coolly as any man that ever sat thinking in the shade.
That greasy beast of a skipper poked his big cropped
head from under the canvas and screwed his fishy eyes
up at me. "Donnerwetter! you will die," he growled,
and drew in like a turtle. I had seen him. I had heard
him. He didn't interrupt me. I was thinking just
then that I wouldn't.'

**He tried to sound my thought with an attentive
glance dropped on me in passing. ^Do you mean to
say you had been deliberating with yourself whether
you would die?' I asked in as impenetrable a tone
as I could conmiand. He nodded without stopping.
*Yes, it had come to that as I sat there alone,' he
said. He passed on a few steps to the imaginary
end of his beat, and when he flung roimd to come
back both his hands were thrust deep into his pockets.

LORD JIM 127

He stopped short in front of my chair and looked
down, * Don't you beKeve it?' he inquired with
tense curiosity. I was moved to make a solemn
declaration of my readiness to believe implicitly
anything he thought fit to tell me."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"He heard me out with his head on one side, and
I had another gUmpse through a rent in the mist
in which he moved and had his bemg. The dim
candle spluttered within the ball of glass, and that
was all I had to see him by; at his back was the dark
night with the clear stars, whose distant gUtter disposed
in retreating planes lured the eye into the depths of a
greater darkness; and yet a mysterious Ught seemed to
show me his boyish head, as if in that moment the youth
within him had, for a moment, gleamed and expired.
* You are an awfid good sort to Ksten like this,' he said.
*It does me good. You don't know what it is to me.
You don't' . . . words seemed to fail him. It
was a distinct glimpse. He was a youngster of the sort
you like to see about you; of the sort you like to imagine
yourself to have been; of the sort whose appearance
claims the fellowship of these illusions you had thought
gone out, extinct, cold, and which, as if rekindled at
the approach of another flame, give a flutter deep,
deep down somewhere, give a flutter of Ught . . .
of heat! . . . Yes; I had a gUmpse of him then
f*7 — :^^ . and it was not the last of that kind. . . .
/ * You don't know what it is for a fellow in my position to
/ bebeUeved — ^ake aclean hrftafit of ifrt<ra»»elder man. It

/ is so diflScult — so awfully unfair — so hard to understand.

i "The mists were closing again. I don't know

how old I appeared to him — and how much wise.
Not half as old as I felt just then; not half as use-
lessly wise as I knew myself to be. Surely in no

128

LORD JIM 129

other craft as in that of the sea do the hearts of those
already launched to sink or swim go out so much to
the youth on the brink, looking with shining eyes
upon that glitter of the vast surface which is only
a reflection of his own glances full of fire. There
is such magnificent vagueness in the expectations
that, had dn'veTi each of usM^ spa^ such a glorious r,,

M'

o*^

indefiniteness, such a be autiful greed of adventures

thaT are their 6Wn and only rewar9 1 > \hat we g et ,* //u^ '

— wP», wp wr>^ tjilk of that: hut ran one of iia re- ^

strain. jusoQjile? Tn^jio pt^er kind of h'fe is the illusion \ *^^^ '
more wide of reahty — ^in no other is the beginning all \
illusion — the disenchantment more swift — ^the sub- \
jugation more complete. Hadn t we all commenced '
with the same desire, ended with the same knowledge, ■
"carrted' fhe memory of the same cherished^ glamour

through the sordid days of imOTecaJionPjVVhat woii3er
that when some heavy procl geiSTiome the bond is
found to be close; that besides the fellowship of the craft
there is felt the strength of a wider feeling — jjbifi ffifJing
thnthindn n mnn tft a rhild He was there before me,
leving that age and wisdom can find a remedy
against the pain of truth, giving me a ghmpse of
himself as a yoimg fellow in a scrape that is the very
devil of a scrape, the sort of scrape greybeards wag
at solemnly while they hide a smile. And he had
been dehberating upon death — confound him! He
had found thai to meditate about because he thought he
had saved his life, while all its glamour had gone with
the ship in the night. What more natural ! It was tragic
enough and funny enough in all conscience to call aloud
for compassion, and in what was I better than the rest of
us to refuse him my pity? And even as I looked at him
the mists rolled into the rent, and his voice spoke —
"*I was so lost, you know. It was the sort of

130 LORD JIM

thing one does not expect to happen to one. It was
not Uke a fight, for instance/

*^*It was not,* I admitted. He appeared changed
as if he had suddenly matured.

*Qne couldn't be sure,' he muttered.
^Ah! You were not sure,' I said, and was placated
by the sound of a faint sigh that passed between us like
the flii^t of a bird in the night.

***Well, I wasn't,' he said, courageously. *It was
something like that wretched story they made up.
It was not a lie — ^but it wasn't truth all the same.
It was something. . . . One knows a downright
lie. T ^ere was not the th iVlmf^ ^f r ahf^t nf pA^pog^hA-

f wy^n tlM> rigitt An d wrong o f tJiia nflPnir *

*** How much more did you want ?' I asked; but
I thinf i spoke so low that he did not catch what I
said. He had advanced his argument as though life
had been a network of paths separated by chasms.
His voice sounded reasonable.

*** Suppose I had not — ^I mean to say, suppose I
had stuck to the ship? Well. How much longer?
Say a minute — ^half a minute. G)me. In thirty
seconds, as it seemed certain then, I would have
been overboard; and do you think I would not have
laid hold of the first thing that came in my way — oar,
life-buoy, grating — anything? Wouldn't you?'

"*And be saved,' I interjected.

"*I would have meant to be,' he retorted. *And
that's more than I meant when r . . . he shivered
as if about to swallow some nauseous drug . . .
* jumped,' he pronounced with a convulsive effort,
whose stress, as if propagated by the waves of the
air, made my body stir a little in the chair. He
fixed me with lowering eyes. *Don't you believe
me?' he cried. * I swear! . . . Confound it! You

LORD JIM 131

got me here to talk, and . . • You must! • • .
You said you would beKeve/ *Qf course I do/ I pro-
tested in a matter-of-fact tone which produced a calm-
ing effect, * Forgive me/ he said. * Of course I wouldn't
have talked to you about all this if you had not been
a gentleman. I ought to have known . . . lam —
I am — ^a gentleman, too . . .' *Yes, yes,' I said,
hastily. He was looking me squarely in the face
and withdrew his gaze slowly. *Now you under-
stand why I didn't after all . • . didn't go out in
that way. I wasn't going to be frightened at what
I had done. And, anyhow, if I had stuck to the
ship I would have done my best to be saved. Men
have been known to float for hours — ^in the open sea
— ^and be picked up not much the worse for it. I
might have lasted it out better than many others.
There's nothing the matter with my heart.' He
withdrew his right fist from his pocket, and the blow he
struck on his chest resounded like a muffled detonation
in the night.

^"'No,' I said. He meditated, with his legs sligjbtly*^ ^
apart and his chin sunk. ^A hair's-breadth,' he
muttered. ^Not the breadth of a hair betwe^si 4his
and that. And at the time . . .* ^v

^""It is difficult to see a hair at midnight,' I put
in, a little viciously I fear. Don't you see what I_
mean by the solidarity of the craft? I was aggrieved
against him, as though he had cheated me — ^me! — of
a splendid opportunity to keep up the illusion of my
beginnings, as though he had robbed our commo n
life of the last spark of its glamour, r* And so you
cleared out — at once.* ^"^

"* Jumped,' he corrected me incisively. 'Jumped
— mind!' he repeated, and I wondered at the evident
but obscure intention. *Well, yes! Perhaps I could

f

ISS LORD JIM

not see then. But I had plenty of time and any
amount of light in that boat. And I could think,
too. Nobody would know, of course, but this did
not make it any easier for me. YouVe got to be-
Heve that, too. I did not want all this talk. • . .
No • . . Yes ... I won't lie . • . I
wanted it: it is the very thing I wanted — ^there. Do
you think you or anybody could have made me if I
. . . I am — ^I am not afraid to tell. And I wasn't
afraid to think either. I looked it in the face. I wasn't
going to run away. At first— at night, if it hadn't
been for these fellows I might have . . . No! by
heavens! I was not going to give them that satis-
faction. They had done enough. They made up
a story, and believed it for all I know. But I knew
the truth, and I would live it down — ^alone, with
myself. I wasn't going to give in to such a beastly
unfair thing. What did it prove after all? I was
confoundedly cut up. Sick of life — ^to tell you the
truth; but what would have been the good to shirk
it — ^in — ^in — ^that way? That was not the way. I
believe — ^I believe it would have — ^it would have
ended — ^nothing.'

"He had been walking up and down, but with the
last word he turned short at me.

"*What do you beheve?' he asked with violence.
A pause ensued, and suddenly I felt myself overcome
by a profound and hopeless fatigue, as though his
voice had startled me out of a dream of wandering
through empty spaces whose immensity had harassed
my soul and exhausted my body.

"*. . . Would have ended nothing,* he muttered
over me obstinately, after a Kttle while. *No! the
proper thing was to face it out — alone for myself
— wait for another chaixc^-dfodjWtL ,• •

9 99

I

I

CHAPTER TWELVE

"All around everything was still as far as the ear
could reach. The mist of his feelings shifted between
us, as if disturbed by his struggles, and in the rifts of
the immaterial veil he would appear to my staring eyes
distinct of form and pregnant with vague appeal like a
symbolic figure in a picture. The chill air of the night
seemed to Ue on my limbs as heavy as a slab of marble.

"*I see/ I murmured, more to prove to myself
that I could break my state of numbness than for
any other reason.

"*The Avondale picked us up just before sunset,'
he remarked, moodily. * Steamed right straight for
us. We had only to sit and wait.'

"After a long interval, he said, *They told their
story.' And again there was that oppressive silence.
'Then only I knew what it was I had made up my
mind to,' he added.

"*You said nothing,' I whispered.

"'What could I say?' he asked, in the same low
tone. . . . 'Shock slight. Stopped the ship. As-
certained the damage. Took measures to get the boats
out without creating a panic. As the first boat was
lowered ship went down in a squall. Sank like lead.
. . . What could be more clear' ... he hung
his head . . . *and more awful?' His lips quiv-
ered while he looked straight into my eyes. 'I had
jumped — ^hadn't I? ' he asked, dismayed. 'That's what
I had to live down.v:;Tlie story didn't matter/x . , .
He clasped his hands for an instant, g igngCff nght and

133

134 LORD JIM

left into the gloom: ^It was like cheating the dead/
he stainmered.

id there were no dead/ I said.
He went away from me at this. That is the
only way I can describe it. In a moment I saw his
back close to the balustrade. He stood there for
some time» as if admiring the purity and the peace
of the night. Some flowering-shrub in the garden
below spread its powerful scent through the damp
air. He returned to me with hasty steps.

^^'And that did not matter/ he said, as stubbornly
as you please.

*^' Perhaps not,' I admitted. I began to have a
notion he was too much for me. After all, what did
/ know?

'^'Dead or not dead, I could not get clear,' he said,
a had to Uve; hadn't I?'

"*Well, yes — ^if you take it in that way,* I mumbled.

"*I was glad, of course,' he threw out carelessly
with his mind fixed on something else. ^The ex-
posure,' he pronounced, slowly, and lifted his head.
*Do you know what was my first thought when I
heard? I was relieved. I was relieved to learn that
those shouts — did I tell you I had heard shouts? No?
Well, I did. Shouts for help . . . blown along
with the drizzle. Imagination I suppose. And yet
I can hardly • • • How stupid. • . . The
others did not. I asked them afterwards. They all
said No. No? And I was hearing them even then ! I
might have known — ^but I didn't think — ^I only listened.
Very faint screams — day after day. Then that little
half-caste chap here came up and spoke to me. ^^The
Patna . . . French gunboat • • . towed suc-
cessfuUy to Aden . . . Investigation .
Marine Office . . • Sailors' Home . . • ar-

LORD JIM 136

rangements made for your board and lodging!" I
walked along with him, and I enjoyed the silence. So
there had been no shouting. Imagination. I had to
believe him. I could hear nothing any more. I
wonder how long I could have stood it. It was getting
worse, too ... I mean — ^louder.'

"He fell into thought.

"'And I had heard nothing! Well — so be it. But
the lights! The lights did go! We did not see them.
They were not there. If they had been, I would have
swam back — ^I would have gone back and shouted along-
side — ^I would have begged them to take me on board.
. . . I would have had my chance. . . . You
doubt me? . . . How do you know how I felt?
. . . What right have you to doubt? ... I
very nearly did it as it was — do you imderstand?'
His voice fell. * There was not a glimmer — not a glim-
mer,' he protested, mournfully. * Don't you understand
that if there had been, you would not have seen me here?
You see me — and you doubt.*

"I shook my head negatively. This question of
the lights being lost sight of when the boat could
not have been more than a quarter of a mile from
the ship was a matter for much discussion. Jim
stuck to it that there was nothing to be seen after
the first shower had cleared away; and the others
had affirmed the same thing to the officers of the
Avondale. Of course people shook their heads and
smiled. One old skipper who sat near me in court
tickled my ear with his white beard to murmur, *0f
course they would lie.' As a matter of fact nobody
lied; not even the chief engineer with his story of
the masthead Ught dropping like a match you throw
down. Not consciously, at least. A man with his
liver in such a state might very well have seen a floating

136 LORD JIM

spark in the comer of his eje when stealing a hurried
-giaace^yeK hk^fesjjlder^f TThey had seen no Kght of any
sort though they were well within range, and they could
only explain this in one way: the ship had gone down.
j It was obvious and comforting. The foreseen fact
L coming so swiftly had justified their haste. No wonder
they did not cast about for any other explanation.
Yet the true one was very simple, and as soon as
Brierly suggested it the court ceased to bother about the
question. If you remember, the ship had been stopped
and was lying with her head on the course steered
through the night, with her stem canted high and
her bows brought low down in the water through
the filling of the fore-compartment. Being thus
out of trim, when the squall struck her a Uttle on
the quarter, she swung head to wind as sharply as
though she had been at anchor. By this change
in her position all her lights were in a very few moments
shut off from the boat to leeward. It may very well be
that, had they been seen, they would have had the
effect of a mute appeal — ^that their glimmer lost in the
^4a|kn^ss of the cloud would have hac^^themystieirious
power of the human glance that can awaken the f eehngs j
of remorse and pityr* Tt would have said; *I am here-^ ^
still heiFe***' l"*^'r-v-^and what more can the eye of the
most forsaken of human beings say? But she turned
her back on them as if in disdain of their fate : she had
swung round, burdened, to glare stubbornly at the new
danger of the open sea which she so strangely sur-
vived to end her days in a breaking-up yard, as if
it had been her recorded fate to die obscurely under
the blows of many hammers. What were the various
ends their destiay provided for the pilgrims I am unable
to say; but the immediate future brought, at about
nine o'clock next morning, a French gunboat homeward

LORD JIM 1S7

bound from Reunion. The report of her commander
was public property. He had swept a little out of his
course to ascertain what was the matter with that
steamer floating dangerously by the head upon a still
and hazy sea. There was an ensign, imion down, flying
at her main gaff (the serang had the sense to make a
signal of distress at daylight); but the cooks were
preparing the food in the cooking-boxes forward as
usual. The decks were packed as close as a sheep-
pen: there were people perched all along the rails,
jammed on the bridge in a soUd mass; hundreds of
eyes stared, and not a sound was heard when the
gunboat ranged abreast, as if all that multitude of
Ups had been sealed by a spell.

"The Frenchman hailed, could get no intelligible
reply, and after ascertaining through his binoculars
that the crowd on deck did not look plague-stricken,
decided to send a boat. Two officers came on board,
listened to the serang, tried to talk with the Arab,
couldn't make head or tail of it: but of course the
nature of the emergency was obvious enough. They
were also very much struck by discovering a white
man, dead and curled up peacefully on the bridge.
'Fort irUriguSs par ce cadxwre,' as I was infonned
a long time after by an elderly French Ueutenant
whom I came across one afternoon in Sydney, by
the merest chance, in a sort of caf6, and who remem-
bered the affair perfectly. Indeed this affair, I may
notice in passing, had an extraordinary power of
defying the shortness of memories and the length
of time: it seemed to live, with a sort of imcanny
vitahty, in the minds of men, on the tips of their
tongues. IVe had the questionable pleasure of meet-
ing it often, years afterwards, thousands of miles away,
emerging from the remotest possible talk, coming to the

188 LORD JIM

surface of the most distant allusions. Has it not
turned up to-night between us? And I am the only
seaman here. I am the only one to whom it is a memory.
And yet it has made its way out! But if two men who,
unknown to each other, Imew of this affair met acci-
dentally on any spot of this earth, the thing would pop
up between them as siure as fate, before they parted.
I had never seen that Frenchman before, and at
the end of an hour we had done with each other for
life: he did not seem particularly talkative either; he
was a quiet, massive chap in a creased imif orm sitting
drowsily over a tumbler half full of some dark liquid.
His shoulder-straps were a bit tarnished, his clean-
shaved cheeks were large and sallow; he looked like a
man who would be given to taking snuff — <kfljlt..wu
-know? I won't say he did; but the habit would have
fitted that kind of man. It all began by his handing me
a number of Home News, which I didn't want, across
the marble table. I said, *Merci.' We exchanged
a few apparently innocent remarks, and suddenly,
before I knew how it had come about, we were in
the midst of it, and he was telling me how much they
had been * intrigued by that corpse.' It turned out
he had been one of the boarding officers.

"In the establishment where we sat one could get
a variety of foreign drinks which were kept for the
visiting naval officers, and he took a sip of the dark
medical-looking stuff, which probably was nothing
more nasty than cassis d Veau, and glancing with one
eye into tibe tumbler, shook his head slightly. IJm^

,.Jf!!^,^?Mf jffe '^'^^^^iX!^Z^Z^^'^ concevez,* he said, with a
curious mixture of unconcern and thoughtfulness. I
could very easily conceive how impossible it had been
for them to understand. Nobody in the gunboat knew
enough English to get hold of the story as told by the

•^^ C^'^iL''^^:^

LORD JIM ^' i-^^ '^^ 189

serang. There was a good deal of noise, too, round the
two officers. *They crowded upon us. There was a
circle round that dead man {avtour de ce moH)* he de-
scribed. ^One had to attend to the most pressing.

■— **^HlSse people were beginning to agitate themselves —
Parbleul A^^i^Xke that — Hoj^t y^^^ ^fy^* he inter-
jected with pEiiosophic indulgence. As to the bulk-
head, he had advised his commander that the safest
thing was to leave it alone, it was so villainous to
look at. They got two hawsers on board promptly
(en Untie hate) and took the Patna in tow — stem fore-
most at that — which, under the circumstances, was
not so foolish, since the rudder was too much out of the
water to be of any great use for steering, and this
manoeuvre eased the strain on the bulkhead, whose
state, he expounded with stolid glibness, demanded the
greatest care (Sxigeait les plus grands mSnagements) .
I could not help thinking that my new acquaintance
must have had a voice in most of these arrangements:
he looked a reliable officer, no longer very active, and he
was seamanlike, too, in a way, though as he sat there,
with his thick fingers clasped lightly on his stomach,

, he reminded you of one of those snuflfy, quiet village
priests, into whose ears are poured the sins, the suffer-
ings, the remorse of peasant generations, on whose faces
the placid and simple expression is like a veil thrown
over the mystery of pain and distress. He ought
to have had a threadbare black soutane buttoned
smoothly up to his ample chin, instead of a frock-
coat with shoulder-straps and brass buttons. His
broad bosom heaved regularly while he went on tell-
ing me that it had been the very devil of a job, as
doubtless (sans douie) I could figiu'e to myself in my
quality of a seaman (en voire qualiti de marin). At
the end of the period he inclined his body slightly

140 LORD JIM

towards me, and, pursing his shaved lips, allowed the air
to escape with a gentle hiss. * Luckily,' he continued,
*the sea was level like this table, and there was no more
wind than there is here/ • • • The place struck me
as indeed intolerably stuffy, and very hot; my face
burned as though I had been yoimg enough to be em-
barassed and blushing. They had directed their course,
he pursued, to the nearest English port ^ncUureUe-
ment,* where their responsibiUty ceased ^Dieu Toerci*
. . . He blew out his flat cheeks a little. • • .
^Because, mind you (rwlez Wen), all the time of towing
we had two quartermasters stationed with axes by the
hawsers, to cut us clear of our tow in case she • . . '
He fluttered downwards his heavy eyelids, making his
meaning as plain as possible. . . . ^W hat wou ld
1 On edoes ^at one ca n {on fait ce qu'on peiU)y*
and fora moment he managed to invest his ponderous
immobiUty with an air of resignation. *Two quarter-
masters — ^thirty hours — ^always there. Two!' he re-
peated, lifting up his right hand a little, and exhibiting
two fingers. This was absolutely the first gesture I saw
him make. It gave me the opportunity to 'note' a
starred scar on the back of his hand — effect of a gunshot
clearly; and, as if my sight had been made more acute
by this discovery, I perceived also the seam of an old
wound, beginning a little below the temple and going
out of sight under the short grey hair at the side of
his head — ^the graze of a spear or the cut of a sabre.
He clasped his hands on his stomach again. 'I re-
mained on board that — that — ^my memory is going
(s^en va), Ahl Patt-nd. C'est bien ga. PaM-nd.
Merd. It is droll how one forgets. I stayed on
that ship thirty hours. . . .*

"'You did!' I exclaimed. Still gazing at his hands,
he pursed his lips a little, but this time made no hissing

LORD JIM 141

sound. *It was judged proper/ he said, lifting his eye-
brows dispassionately, Hhat one of the officers should
remain to keep an eye open (pour ouvrir VosH) ' . . .
he sighed idly . . • *and for communicating by
signals with the towing ship — do you see? — ^and so on.
For the rest, it was my opinion, too. We made our
boats ready to drop over — and I also on that ship took
measiu-es. . . . Enfinl One has done one's pos-
sible. It was a dehcate position. Thirty hours.
They prepared me some food. As for the wine — ^go and
whistle for it — ^not a drop.* In some extraordinary way,
without any marked change in his inert attitude
and in the placid expression of his face, he managed
to convey the idea of profound disgust. *I — ^you
know— when it comes to eating without my glass
of wine— I am nowhere.'

"I was afraid he would enlarge upon the grievance,
for though he didn't stir a hmb or twitch a feature,
he made one aware how much he was irritated by
the recollection. But he seemed to forget all about
it. They delivered their charge to the *port author-
ities,' as he expressed it. He was struck by the calm-
ness with which it had been received. 'One might have
thought they had such a droll find (drdle de trouvaille)
brought them every day. You are extraordinary —
you others,' he commented, with his back propped
against the wall, and looking himself as incapable of an
emotional display as a sack of meal. There happened
to be a man-of-war and an Indian Marine steamer in
the harbour at the time, and he did not conceal his
admiration of the efficient manner in which the boats of
these two ships cleared the Patna of her passengers.
Indeed his tori>id demeanour concealed nothing: it
had that mysterious, almost miraculous, power of
producing striking effects by means impossible of

142 LORD JIM

detection which is the last word of the highest art.
* Twenty-five minutes — ^watch in hand — twenty-five,
no more/ • . • He unclasped and clasped again
his fingers without removing his hands from his stom-
ach, and made it infinitely more effective than if he had
thrown up his arms to heaven in amazement. . • •
*A11 that lot (tout ce monde) on shore — with their little
affairs — ^nobody left but a guard of seamen (niarins de
r^tat) and that interesting corpse (cet intiressant
cad(wre). Twenty-five minutes/ . . . With down-
cast eyes and his head tilted slightly on one side he
seemed to roll knowingly on his tongue the savour of a
smart bit of work. He persuaded one without any
further demonstration that his approval was eminently
worth having, and resuming his hardly interrupted
immobility, he went on to inform me that, being under
orders to make the best of their way to Toulon, they
left in two hours' time, *so that (de sorte que) there are
many things in this incident of my life (dans eel 6pi8ode
de ma vie) which have remained obscure/ "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

''After these words, and without a change of
attitude, he, so to speak, submitted himself passively
to a state of silence. I kept him company; and sud-
denly, but not abruptly, as if the appointed time
had arrived for his moderate and husky voice to
come out of his immobiUty, he pronounced, ^Mon
Dieul how the time passes!' Nothing could have
been more conmionplace than this remark; but its
utterance coincided for me with a moment of vision,
fit s ' extraordinary how we go through life with gyes ^^'^'^
f half shut, with dull ears, with dormant thoughts. /

^ -Perhaps it's just as well; and it may be that itTsTESj '^^^ '"^
very dulness that makes life to the incalculable majority
so supportable and so welcome. Nevertheless, there
can be but few of us who had never known one of these
rare moments of awakening when we see, hear, imder-
stand ever so much — everything — ^in a flash — ^before
we fall back again into our agreeable somnolence. I ^
raised my eyes when he spoke, and I saw him as though
I had never seen him before. I saw his chin sunk on his
breast, the cliunsy folds of his coat, his clasped hands,
his motionless pose, so curiously suggestive of his hav-
ing been simply left there. Time had passed mdeed:
it had overtaken him and gone ahead. It had left him
hopelessly behind with a few poor gifts: the iron-grey
hair, the heavy fatigue of the tanned face, two scars, a
pair of tarnished shoulder-straps; one of those steady,
reliable men who are the raw material of great reputa-
tions, one of those uncounted Uves that are buried with-

148

144 LORD JIM

out drums and trumpets under the foundations of
monumental successes. ^I am now third lieutenant of
the Vidorieuse* (she was the flagship of the French
Pacific squadron at the time), he said, detaching his
shoulders from the wall a couple of inches to introduce
himself. I bowed slightly on my side of the table, and
told him I conmianded a merchant vessel at present
anchored in Rushcutters' Bay. He had * remarked'
her, — ^a pretty little craft. He was very civil about
it in his impassive way. I even fancy he went the
length of tilting his head in compliment as he re-
peated, breathing visibly the while, *Ah, yes. A
little craft painted black — ^very pretty — ^very pretty
{trh coquet).' After a time he twisted his body slowly
to face the glass door on our right. *A dull town
{triste viUejJ^ he observed, staring into the street. It
was a briUiant day; a southerly buster was raging,
and we could see the passers-by, men and women,
buflFeted by the wind on the sidewalks, the sunlit fronts
of the houses across the road blurred by the tall whirls
of dust. *I descended on shore,' he said, *to stretch
my legs a little, but . . .' He didn't finish, and
sank into the depths of his repose. *Pray — ^tell me,'
he began, coming up ponderously, *what was there at
the bottom of this affair — ^precisely (au jtiste)? It is
curious. That dead man, for instance — ^and so on.*

"* There were living men, too,* I said; *much more
curious.'

"'No doubt, no doubt,' he agreed half audibly,
then, as if after mature consideration, murmured,
'Evidently.' I made no difficulty in communicating
to him what had interested me most in this affair.
It seemed as though he had a right to know : hadn't he
spent thirty hours on board the Paina — ^had he not
taken the succession, so to speak, had he not done

LORD JIM 145

*his possible'? He listened to me, looking more priest-
like than ever, and with what — ^probably on account of
his downcast eyes — ^had the appearance of devout con-
centration. Once or twice he elevated his eyebrows
(but without raising his eyelids), as one would say
*The devil!' Once he calmly exclaimed, *Ah, bah!'
under his breath, and when I had finished he pursed his
lips in a deUberate way and emitted a sort of sorrowful
whistle.

"In any one else it might have been an evidence
of boredom, a sign of indiflference; but he, in his occult
way, managed to make his inmaobihty appear pro-
foundly responsive, ^and as full of valuable ttioji^^
an egg is of meat. \ What he sai3^ laust'waSnoiy
more than a^ Verjrititeresting,' pronounced politely, and
not much above a whisper. Before I got over my dis-
appointment he added, but as if speaking to himself,
* That's it. That is it.' His chin seemed to sink lower
on his breast, his body to weigh heavier on his seat. I
was about to ask him what he meant when a sort of
preparatory tremor passed over his whole person, as a
faint ripple may be seen upon stagnant water even
before the wind is felt. *And so that poor young man
ran away along with the others,' he said, with grave
tranquillity.

"I don't know what made me smile: it is the only
genuine smile of mine I can remember in connection
with Jim's aflFair. But somehow this simple state-
ment of the matter sounded funny in French. . . .
^S'est enfui avec les avires^ had said the lieutenant.
And suddenly I began to admire the discrimination of
the man. He had made out the point at once: he did
get hold of the only thing I cared about. I felt as
though I were taking professional opinion on the case.
His imperturbable and mature calmness was that of an

■■••i*^

146 LORD JIM

expert in possession of the facts, and to whom one's
perplexities are mere child's-play. *Ah! The young,
the young/ he said, indulgently. ^And after all, one
Fes not die ofitZ *Dieof what? 'I asked, swiftly. *Qf
being-trfraid^He elucidated his meaning and sipped
v^^^ drink. ^

"I perceived that the three last fingers of his wounded
hand were stiff and could not move independently of
each other, so that he took up his tiunbler with an un-
gainly clutch. ^One is always afraid. One may talk,
but . . .* He put down the glass awkwardly.
. . . *The fear, the fear — ^look you — ^it is always
there.' . . . He touched his breast near a brass
button on the very spot where Jim had given a thump
to his own when protesting that there was nothing the
matter with his heart. I suppose I made some sign of
dissent, because he insisted, *Yes! yes! One talks,
one talks; this is all very fine; but at the end of the
reckoning one is no cleverer than the next man — and
no more brave. Brave! This is always to be seen. I
have rolled my hump {roulS ma hosae)^ he said, using the
slang expression with imperturbable seriousness, ^in all
parts of the world; I have known brave men — ^famous
ones! AUezr . . . He drank carelessly. • . .
* Brave — ^you conceive — ^in the Service — one has got
to be — the trade demands it (le mHier veux ga). Is
it not so?' he appealed to me reasonably. *Eh bieni
J . Each of them — ^I say each of them, if he were an
jT * honest man — bien erUendu — would confess that there
^ is a point — there is a point — ^f or the best of us — ^there

is somewhere a point when you let go everything
(voTis lachez tout). And you have got to live with
that truth — do you see? Given a certain combina-
tion of circimistances, fear is sure to come. Abomi-
/ nable fimk (tin trac 6pouvantable) . And even for

I

LORD JIM 147

those who ilo not believe this-tciitih there is fear all
the same-^ 4he^ f e<»r ^f t>ipTnflp]y^S''"^^NAKqn1iiff>1y so.

Trust me. Yes. Yes. . . . At my age one knows
what one is talking about — que diabUr . . . He
had delivered himself of all this as immovably as
though he had been the mouthpiece of abstract wis-
dom, but at this point he heightened the effect of
detachment by beginning to twirl his thumbs slowly.
*It*s evident — Tparhleul* he continued; *for, make up
your mind as much as you like, even a simple head-
ache or a fit of indigestion {un derangement d' estomac)
is enough to . . . Take me, for instance — ^I have
made my proofs. Eh bient I, who am speaking to
you, once . . .'

**He drained his glass and returned to his twirling.
*No, no; one does not die of it,' he pronounced, finally,
and when I found he did not mean to proceed with the
personal anecdote, I was extremely disappointed; the
more so as it was not the sort of story, you know, one
could very well press him for. I sat silent, and he too,
as if nothing could please him better. Even his thumbs
were still now. Suddenly his lips began to move.
'That is so,' he resumed, placidly. ^JNian is bom a
coward (V hcmme est nS poUron). It is aTdifilliulLv '■«
parbleul It would be too easy otherwise. But habit
— ^habit — ^necessity — do you see? — ^the eye of others —
voild. One puts up with it. And then the example of
others who are no better than yourself, and yet make
good countenance. . . .*
His voice ceased.

*That young man — ^you will observe — ^had none
of these inducements — at least at the moment,' I
remarked.

"He raised his eyebrows forgivingly: *I don't say;
I don't say. The young man in question might have

««i-»/».. -

148 LORD JIM

had the best dispositions — ^the best dispositions/ he
repeated, wheezing a Uttle.

"*I am glad to see you taking a lenient view/ I
said. *His own feeling in the matter was — ah! —
hopeful, and . . /

"The shuffle of his feet under the table interrupted
me. He drew up his heavy eyeUds. Drew up, I say
— ^no other expression can describe the steady delibera-
tion of the act — ^and at last was disclosed completely
to me. I was confronted by two narrow grey circlets,
Uke two tiny steel rings around the profound blackness
of the pupils. The sharp glance, coming from that
massive body, gave a notion of extreme efficiency, like
a razor-edge on a battle-axe. * Pardon,' he said, punc-
tihously. His right hand went up, and he swayed for-
ward. * Allow me ... I contended that one
may get on knowing very well that one's courage does
Lot come of itself (ne vient pas toiU seid). There's
Lothing much in that to get upset about. One truth
the more ought not to make life impossible. . . .
i ut th e ho nour — the honour, monsieur! . . . The
lonouT I 7 ! that is real — that is! And what life
lay be worth when' ... he got on his feet
ith a ponderous impetuosity, as a startled ox might
iramble up from the grass . . . *w hen the hono ur
[one — ah qal par exemple — ^I can oflfer no opmion.
can oflfer no opinion — ^because — ^monsieur — ^I know
fnothing of it.'

'*I had risen, too, and, trying to throw infinite polite-
ness into our attitudes, we faced each other mutely,
like two china dogs on a mantelpiece. Hang the
fellow! he had pricked the bubble. The blight of
futility that lies in wait for men's speeches had fallen
upon our conversation, and made it a thing of empty
sounds. *Very well,' I said, with a disconcerted smile,

LORD JIM 149

*but couldn't it reduce itself to not being found out?'
He made as if to retort readily, but when he spoke he
had changed his mind. ^This, monsieur, is too fine
for me — ^much above me — ^I don't think about it.' He
bowed heavily over his cap, which he held before him by
the peak, between the thumb and the forefinger of his
wounded hand. I bowed, too. We bowed together:
we scraped our feet at each other with much ceremony,
while a dirty specimen of a waiter looked on critically,
as though he had paid for the performance. *Servi-
teur,' said the Frenchman. Another scrape. * Mon-
sieur' . . . * Monsieur.' . , . The glass door
swung behind his buriy back. I saw the southerly
buster get hold of him and drive him down wind with
his hand to his head, his shoulders braced, and the tails
of his coat blown hard against his legs.

"I sat down again alone and discouraged — dis-
couraged about Jim's case. If you wonder that
after more than three years it had preserved its ac-
tuaHty, you must know that I had seen him only
very lately. I had come straight from Samarang,
where I had loaded a cargo for Sydney: an utterly
uninteresting bit of business,— what Charley here
would call one of my rational transactions — ^and in
Samarang I had seen something of Jim. He was
then working for De Jongh, on my recommendation.
Water-clerk. *My representative afloat,' as De
Jongh called hun. You can't imagine a mode of Kfe
more barren of consolation, less capable of being
invested with a spark of glamour — unless it be the
business of an insurance canvasser. Little Bob Stanton
— Charley here knew him well — ^had gone through that
experience. The same who got drowned afterwards
trying to save a lady's-maid in the Sephora disaster.
A case of collision on a hazy morning off the Spanish

■J. J

(a

%

150 LORD JIM

coast you may remember. All the passengers had been
packed tidily into the boats and shoved clear of the ship
when Bob sheered alongside again and scrambled
back on deck to fetch that girl. How she had been
left behind I can't make out; anyhow, she had gone
completely crazy — ^wouldn't leave the ship — held to the
A **' rail like grim death. The wrestling-match could be
seen plainly from the boats; but poor Bob was the
shortest chief mate in the merchant service, and the
woman stood five feet ten in her shoes and was as strong
as a horse, I've been told. So it went on, pull devil,
pull baker, the wretched girl screaming all the time, and
Bob letting out a yell now and then to warn his boat
to keep well clear of the ship. One of the hands
told me, hiding a smile at the recollection, *It was
for all the world, sir, like a naughty youngster fight-
I ing with hi£^mother.'("The same old chap said that
^ - At tirelast we couHTsee that Mr. Stanton had given
up hauling at the gal, and just stood by looking at her,
watchful like. We thought afterwards he must Ve
been reckoning that, maybe, the rush of water would
tear her away from the rail by and by and give him a
show to save her. We daren't come alongside for our
life; and after a bit the old ship went down all on a sud-
den with a lurch to starboard — ^plop. The suck in was
something awful. We never saw anything alive or
dead come up.' Poor Bob's spell of shore-life had been
one of the complications of a love affair, I believe.
He fondly hoped he had done with the sea for ever,
and made sure he had got hold of all the bliss on earth,
but it came to canvassing in the end. Some cousin of
his in Liverpool put him up to it. He used to tell us
his experiences in that line. He made us laugh till we
cried, and, not altogether displeased at the effect,
undersized and bearded to the waist like a gnome, he

LORD JIM 151

would tiptoe amongst us and say, *It's all very well for
you beggars to laugh, but my immortal soul was
shrivelled down to the size of a parched pea after a week
of that work/ I don't know how Jim's soul ae-
conunodated itself to the new conditions of his life —
I was kept too busy in getting him something to do that
would keep body and soul together — ^but I am pretty
certain his adventiux)us fancy was suffering all the
pangs of starvation. It had certainly nothing to
feed upon in this new calling. It was distressing
to see him at it, though he tackled it with a stubborn
serenity for which I must give him full credit. I kept
my eye on his shabby plodding with a sort of notion
that it was a punishment for the heroics of his fancy —
an expiation for his craving after more glamour than he
could carry. He had loved too well to imagine himself
a glorious racehorse, and now he was condemned to toil
without honour like a costermonger's donkey. He
did it very well. He shut himself in, put his head
down, said never a word. Very well; very well in-
deed — except for certain fantastic and violent out-
breaks, on the deplorable occasions when the
irrepressible Patna case cropped up. Unfortunately
that scandal of the Eastern seas would not die out.
And this is the reason why I could never feel I had
done with Jim for good.

^^I sat thinking of him after the French lieutenant
had left, not, however, in connection with De Jongh's
cool and gloomy backshop, where we had hurriedly
shaken hands not very long ago, but as I had seen
him years before in the last flickers of the candle,
alone with me in the long gallery of the Malabar House,
with the chill and the darkness of the night at his back.
"""TKfe respectable sword of his country's law was sus-
pended over his head. To-morrow — or was it to-day?

,„*^""''

<}

-^

^1^ *

152 LORD JIM

(midnight had slipped by long before we parted) —
the marble-faced police magistrate, after distributing
fines and terms of imprisonment in the assault-and-
battery case, would take up the awful weapon and smite
his bowed neck. Our commimion in the night was
uncommonly like a last vigil with a condemned man.
He was guilty, too. He was guilty — ^as I had told my-
self repeatedly, guilty and done for; nevertheless, I
wished to spare him the mere detail of a formal execu-
tion. I don't pretend to explain the reasons of my de-
sire — ^I don't think I could; but if you haven't got a
sort of notion by this time, then I must have been very
obscure in my narrative, or you too sleepy to seize upon
the sense of my words. I don't defend my morahty.
There was no morality in the impulse which mduced me
to lay before him Brierly's plan of evasion — ^I may call
it — in all its primitive simplicity. There were the
rupees — absolutely ready in my pocket and very much
at his service. Oh! a loan; a loan of course — ^and if an
introduction to a man (in Rangoon) who could put
some work in his way . • . Why ! with the greatest
pleasure. I had pen, ink, and paper in my room on
the first floor. And even while I was speaking I was
impatient to begin the letter: day, month, year, 2:30
A. M. . . . for the sake of our old friendship I ask you
to put some work in the way of Mr. James So-and-so,
whom, &c., &c. . . .1 was even ready to write
that strain about him. Kli he had not enlisted my
mpathies he had done better for himself — he had
fone to the very fount and origin of that sentiment,
le had reached the secret sensibility of my egoism^.
am concealing nSthing from you, becaltse vteie I to
do so my action would appear more unintelligible
than any man's action has the right to be, and — ^in
the second place — ^to-morrow you shall forget my

LORD JIM 153

sincerity along with the other lessons of the past. In
this transaction, to speak grossly and precisely, I
was the irreproachable man; but the subtle inten-
tions of my immorality were defeated by the moral
simplicity of the criminal. No doubt he was selfish,
too, but his selfishness had a higher origm, a more
lofty aim. I discovered that, say what I would, he
was eager to go through the ceremony of execution;
and I didn't say much, for I felt that in argument
his youth would tell against me heavily: he beUeved
where I had already ceased to doubt. There was
something fine in the wildness of his unexpressed,
hardly formulated hope. * Clear out! Couldn't think
of it,' he said, with a shake of the head. ^I make
you an oflFer for which I neither demand nor ex-
pect any sort of gratitude,' I said; *you shall re-
pay the money when convenient, and . . .' * Aw-
fully good of you,' he muttered without looking up.
I watched him narrowly : the future must have appeared
horribly uncertain to him; but he did not falter, as
though indeed there had been nothing wrong with his
heart. I felt angry — ^not for the first time that night.
*The whole wretched business,' I said, 'is bitter enough,
I should think, for a man of your kind . . .' *It
is, it is,' he whispered twice, with his eyes fixed on the
floor. It was heartrending. He towered above the
light, and I could see the down on his cheek, the colour
manthng warm under the smooth skin of his face.
Believe me or not, I say it was outrageously heart-
rending. It provoked me to brutality. *Yes,' I said;
^and allow me to confess that I am totally unable to
imagine what advantage you can expect from this lick-
ing of the dregs.' * Advantage!' he murmured out of
his stillness. 'I am dashed if I do,' I said, enraged.
I've been trying to tell you all there is in it,' he went on.

«T>

154 LORD JIM

slowly, as if meditating something unanswerable.
^But after all, it is my trouble/ I opened my mouth
to retort, and discovered suddenly that I'd lost all
confidence in myself; and it was as if he, too, had given
me up, for he mumbled like a man thinking half aloud.
*Went away . . . went into hospitals. . . .
Not one of them would face it. . . . They!
. . .' He moved his hand slightly to imply disdain.
*But IVe got to get over this thing, and I mustn't
shirk any of it or . . . I won't shirk any of it.* He
was silent. He jgftzfid ^s though he had been haunted.
r'**"'flBsr\uicoBsdipus face/reflected the passing expressions
"of scorn, of despair^ of resolution, — ^reflected them in
turn, a^ a magic mirror would reflect the gliding
passage of unearthly shapes. He lived surrounded
by deceitful ghosts, by austere shades. *0h! non-
sense, my dear fellow,' I b^an. He had a movement
of impatience. *You don't seem to understand,' he
said, incisively; then looking at me without a wink,
j^I" may have jifflq)ed^' but..X.don!L.jauL,jawa^
'meant no oflFence,' I said; and added stupidly, ^Better
men than you have found it expedient to run, at times.'
He coloured all over, while in my confusion I half-
choked myself with my own tongue. * Perhaps so,'
he said at last; ^I am not good enough; I can't afford it.
I am bound to fight this thing down— I am fighting it
now.* I got out of my chair and felt stiff all over.
The silence was embarrassing, and to put an end to it I
imagined nothing better but to remark, 'I had no idea
I it was so late,' in an airy tone. . . . *I daresay
you have had enough of this,' he said, brusquely: *and
to tell you the truth' — ^he began to look round for his
hat — *so have I.'

"Well! he had refused this unique offer. He had
struck aside my helping hand; he was ready to go now.

^

I

LORD JIM 155

and beyond the balustrade the night seemed to wait for
him very still, as though he had been marked down for
its prey. I heard his voice. *Ah! here it is.' He had
found his hat. For a few seconds we hung in the wind.
*What will you do after — ^after . . .' I asked very
low. *Go to the dogs as likely as not/ he answered in a
gruflF mutter. I had recovered my wits in a measure,
and judged best to take it lightly. *Pray remember/ I
said, * that I should like very much to see you again before
you go.' *I don't know what's to prevent you. Tj^Si^^
damaed thiag^WQP't j^afes Jft^^^ JftYJaiblfial he said with
intense bitterness, — *no such luck.' And then at the
moment of taking leave he treated me to a ghastly
muddle of dubious stammers and movements, to an
awful display of hesitations. God forgive him — ^me!
He had taken it into his fanciful head that I was likely
to make some difficulty as to shaking hands. It was
too awful for words. I beheve I shouted suddenly
at him as you would bellow to a man you saw about
to walk over a cKflF; I remember our voices being
raised, the appearance of a miserable grin on his face,
a crushing clutch on my hand, a nervous laugh. The
candle spluttered out, and the thing was over at last,
with a groan that floated up to me in the dark. He
got himself away somehow. The night swallowed his
form. He was a horrible bimgler. Horrible. I heard
the quick crunch-crunch of the gravel under his boots.
He was nmning. Absolutely running, with nowhere to
go to. And he was not yet four-and-twenty."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I SLEPT little, hurried over my breakfast, and
after a slight hesitation gave up my eariy morning
visit to my ship. It was really very wrong of me,
because, though my chief mate was an excellent
man all round, he was the victim of such black imagin-
ings that if he did not get a letter from his wife at
the expected time he would go quite distracted with
rage and jealousy, lose all grip on the work, quarrel
with all hands, and either weep in his cabin or develop
such a ferocity of temper as all but drove the crew to
the verge of mutiny. The thing had always seemed
inexphcable to me: they had been married thirteen
years; I had a glimpse of her once, and, honestly,
I couldn't conceive a man abandoned enough to plunge
into sin for the sake of such an unattractive person.
I don't know whether I have not done wrong by
refraining from putting that view before poor Selvin:
the man made a little hell on earth for himself, and I
also suffered indirectly, but some sort of, no doubt,
false delicacy prevented me. The marital relations
of seamen would make an interesting subject, and I
could tell you instances. . . . However, this is not
the place, nor the time, and we are concerned with
Jim — who was immarried. If his imaginative con-
science or his pride; if all the extravagant ghosts
and austere shades that were the disastrous familiars
of his youth would not let him run away from the
block, I, who of course can't be suspected of such
familiars, was irresistibly impelled to go and see his

156

LORD JIM 167

head roll oflF. I wended my way towards the court.
I didn't hope to be very much impressed or edified,
or interested or even frightened — though, as long as
there is any Kfe before one, a jolly good fright now
and then is a salutary discipline. But neither did I
expect to be so awfully depressed. The bitterness of
h is p unishment was in its chill and mean atmosp here^,

^^^•••■•fcw m I 111*1 - ,m,

he real significance of crime is in its be ing a breach o f _^ J
faith with the conunimity of mankind, (^nd from that
pomt of view he was no mean traitor, but his executioo--- ''
was a hole-and-corner affair. There was no high
scaffolding, no scarlet cloth (did they have scarlet cloth
on Tower Hill? They should have had), no awe-
stricken multitude to be horrified at his guilt and be
moved to tears at his fate — ^no air of sombre retribution.
There was, as I walked along, the clear sunshine, a
brilliance too passionate to be consoling, the streets full
of jumbled bits of colour like a damaged kaleidoscope:
yellow, green, blue, dazzling white, the brown nudity of
an undraped shoulder, a bullock-cart with a red canopy,
a company of native infantry in a drab body with dark
heads marching in dusty laced boots, a native policeman
in a sombre uniform of scanty cut and belted in patent
leather, who looked up at me with orientally pitiful
eyes as though his migrating spirit were suffering ex-
ceedingly from that unforeseen — ^what d*ye call *em?
— ^avatar — ^incarnation. Under the shade of a lonely
tree in the courtyard, the villagers connected with the
assault case sat in a picturesque group, looking like a
chromo-lithograph of a camp in a book of Eastern
travel. One missed the obligatory thread of smoke in
the foreground and the pack-animals grazing. A blank
yellow wall rose behind overtopping the tree, reflecting
the glare. The court-room was sombre, seemed more
vast. High up in the dim space the pimkahs were

168 LORD JIM

swaying short to and fro, to and fro. Here and there
a draped figure, dwarfed by the bare walls, remained
without stirring amongst the rows of empty benches, as
if absorbed in pious meditation. The plaintiff, who had
been beaten, an obese chocolate-coloured man with
shaved head, one fat breast bare and a bright yellow
caste-mark above the bridge of his nose, sat in pompous
immobility: only his eyes glittered, rolling in the gloom,
and the nostrils dilated and collapsed violently as he
breathed. Brierly dropped into his seat looking done
up, as though he had spent the night in sprinting on a
cinder-track. The pious sailing-ship skipper appeared
excited and made uneasy movements, as if restraining
with difficulty an impulse to stand up and exhort us
earnestly to prayer and repentance. The head of the
magistrate, delicately pale under the neatly arranged
hair, resembled the head of a hopeless invalid after he
had been washed and brushed and propped up in bed.
He moved aside the vase of flowers — ^a bunch of purple
with a few pink blossoms on long stalks — and seizing
in both hands a long sheet of bluish paper, ran his
eye over it, propped his forearms on the edge of the
desk, and began to read aloud in an even, distinct, and
careless voice.

"By Jove! For all my foolishness about scaffolds
and heads rolling off — ^I assure you it was infinitely
worse than a beheading. A heavy sense of finality
brooded over all this, unrelieved by the hope of rest
and safety following the fall of the axe. These pro-
ceedings had all the cold vengefulness of a death-
sentence, had all the cruelty of a sentence of exile. This
is how I looked at it that morning — and even now I
seem to see an undeniable vestige of truth in that
exaggerated view of a conunon occurrence. You may
imagine how strongly I felt this at the time. Perhaps

LORD JIM 159

it is for that reason that I could not bring myself to
admit the finaKty. The thing was always with me,
I was always eager to take opinion on it, as though it
had not been practically settled: individual opinion —
international opinion — ^by Jove! That Frenchman's,
for instance. His own country's pronouncement was
uttered in the passionless and definite phraseology a
machine would use, if machines could speak. The head
of the magistrate was half hidden by the paper, his
brow was like alabaster.

. "There were several questions before the G)urt.
Ihe first as to whether the ship was in every respect
fit and seaworthy for the voyage. The court found
she was not. The next point, I remember, was,
whether up to the time of the accident the ship had
been navigated with proper and seamanUke care.
They said Yes to that, goodness knows why, and
then they declared that there was no evidence to show
the exact cause of the accident. A floating dereUct
probably. I myself remember that a Norwegian
barque bound out with a cargo of pitch-pine had been
given up as missing about that time, and it was just
the sort of craft that would capsize in a squall and
float bottom up for months — a kind of maritime ghoid
on the prowl to kill ships in the dark. Such wandering
corpses are conunon enough in the North Atlantic,
which is haunted by all the terrors of the sea, — ^fogs,
icebergs, dead ships bent upon mischief, and long
sinister gales t)iat fagt^^ i^ppq j>j>fi like a^varnpire till
all the strength and the spirit and even hope are goae^.
and one feels like the empty shell of a man. Btut there
— ^in those seas — the incident was rare enough to re-
semble a special arrangement of a malevolent provi-
dence, which, unless it had for its object the killing
of a donkeyman and t he bring in g of wQ |'^«gft fh^j} ^PAth

/

/

I

I

k

160 LORD JIM

upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of devilry.
This view occurring to me took oflf my attention. For
a time I was aware of the magistrate's voice as a sound
merely; but in a moment it shaped itself into distinct
words • • • *in utter disregard of their plain duty,'
it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and
then • • . ^abandoning in the moment of danger
the lives and property confided to their charge* • • .
went on the voice evenly, and stopped. A pair of eyes
under the white forehead shot darkly a glance above the
edge of the paper. I looked for Jim hurriedly, as
though I had expected him to disappear. He was very
still — ^but he was there. He sat pink and fair and ex-
tremely attentive. * Therefore, • • .* began the
voice emphatically. He stared with parted lips, hang-
ing upon the words of the man behind the desk. These
came out into the stillness wafted on the wind made by
the punkahs, and I, watching for their effect upon him,
caught only the fragments of official language. . • .
^l^he Court . . . Gustav So-and-so master
. . . native of Germany . . . James ^o-and-
so . • . mate • . .<^eKr)y^Scate&.jcaa3M? A

silence fell. The magistrate had dropped the paper,
and leaning sideways on the arm of his chair, began to
talk with Brierly easily. People started to move out;
others were pushing in, and I also made for the door.
Outside I stood still, and when Jim passed me on his
way to the gate, I caught at his arm and detained him.
The look he gave discomposed me, as though I had been
responsible for his state : he looked at me as if I had been
the embodied evil of life. *It's all over,' I stammered.
* Yes,* he said, thickly. *And now let no man . . .'
He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I watched his
back as he went away. It was a long street, and he
remained in sight for some time. He walked rather

LORD JIM 161

slow, and straddling his legs a little, as if he had found
it difficult to keep a straight line. Just before I lost
him I fancied he staggered a bit.

"*Man overboard/ said a deep voice behind me.
Turning round, I saw a fellow I knew slightly, a West
Australian; Chester was his name. He, too, had been
looking after Jim. He was a man with an immense
girth of chest, a rugged, clean-shaved face of mahogany
colour, and two blunt tufts of iron-grey, thick wiry
hairs on his upper lip. He had been pearler, wrecker,
trader, whaler, too, I believe; in his own words — ^any-
thing and everything a man may be at sea, but a pirate.
The Pacific, north and south, was his proper huntmg-
ground; but he had wandered so far afield looking for a
cheap steamer to buy. Lately he had discovered — so
he said — a. guano island somewhere, but its approaches
were dangerous, and the anchorage, such as it was,
could not be considered safe, to say the least of it.
*As good as a gold-mine,' he would exclaim. * Right
bang in the middle of the Walpole Reefs, and if it's true
enough that you can get no holding-ground anywhere
in less than forty fathom, then what of that? There
are the hurricanes, too. But it's a first-rate thing.
As good as a gold-mine — ^better! Yet there's not a fool
of them that will see it. I can't get a skipper or a
shipowner to go near the place. So I made up my mind
to cart the blessed stuflF myself.' . . . This was
what he required a steamer for, and I knew he was just
then negotiating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm
for an old, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety
horse-power. We had met and spoken together several
times. He looked knowingly after Jim. * Takes it to

^« heart?' he asked scornfully. *Very much,' I said.

^ *llifen he's no good,' he opined. * What's all the to-do
about? A bit of ass'a skiar."' That never yet made a

•«rf-

162 LORD JIM

man. You must see things exactly as they are — ^if you
don't, you may just as well give in at once. You will
never do anything in this world. Look at me. I made
it a practice never to take anything to heart.* *Yes/
I said, *you see things as they are.* *I wish I could
see my partner coming along, tliat's what I wish to see,*
he said. *Know my partner? Old Robinson. Yes;
the Robinson. Don't you know? The notorious Rob-
inson. The man who smuggled more opium and
bagged more seals in his time than any loose Johnny
now alive. They say he used to board the sealing-
schooners up Alaska way when the fog was so thick
that the Lord God, He alone, could tell one man
from another. Holy-Terror Robinson. That's the
man. He is with me in that guano thing. The best
chance he ever came across in his life.' He put his
Hps to my ear. * CannibalSs-well, they used to give
him the name years aiid years ago. You remember
the story? A shipwreck on the west side of Stewart
Island; that's right; seven of them got ashore, and
it seems they did not get on very well together. Some
men are too cantankerous for anything — don't know
how to make the best of a bad job — don't see things
as they are — as they arcy my boy! And then what's
the consequence? Obvious! Trouble, trouble; as
likely as not a knock on the head; and serve 'em
right, too. That sort is the most useful when it's
dead. The story goes that a boat of Her Majesty's
ship Wolverine found him kneeling on the kelp, naked
\ as the day he was bom, and chanting some psalm-
I tune or other; light snow was falling at the time.
He waited till the boat was an oar's length from the
shore, and then up and away. They chased him for
an hour up and down the boulders, till a marine flung
a stone that took him behind the ear providentially

I'

LORD JIM 163

and knocked him senseless. Alone? Of course. But
that's like that tale of sealing-schooners; the Lord God
knows the right and the wrong of that story. The
cutter did not investigate much. They wrapped him
in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could,
with a dark night coming on, the weather threatening,
and the ship firing recall guns every five minutes.
Three weeks afterwards he was as well as ever. He
didn't allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset
him; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech.
It was bad enough to have lost his ship, and all he was
worth besides, without paying attention to the hard
names they called him. That's the man for me.' He
lifted his arm for a signal to some one down the street.
*He*s got a little money, so I had to let him into my
thing. Had to! It would have been sinful to throw
away such a find, and I was cleaned out myself. It
cut me to the quick, but I could see the matter just
as it was, and if I must shar^-thinks I— with any
man, then give me Robinson. I left him at breakfast
in the hotel to come to court, because I've an idea.

Ah! Good morning. Captain Robinson.
. . . Friend of mine. Captain Robinson.'

"An emaciated patriarch in a suit of white drill, a
solah topi with a green-Kned rim on a head trembUng
with age, joined us after crossing the street in a trotting
shuffle, and stood propped with both hands on the
handle of an umbrella. A white beard with amber
streaks hung lumpily down to his waist. He blinked
his creased eyelids at me in a bewildered way. *How
do you do? how do you do?' he piped, amiably, and
tottered. *A little deaf,' said Chester aside. *Did
you drag him over six thousand miles to get a cheap
steamer?' I asked. *I would have taken him twice
round the world as soon as look at him,' said Chester

164 LORD JIM

with immense energy. ' The steamer wiU be the making
of us, my lad. Is it my fault that every skipper and
shipowner in the whole of blessed Australasia turns
out a blamed fool? Once I talked for three hours to
a man in Auckland. '"Send a ship/' I said, ^'send a
ship. I'll give you half of the first cargo for yourself,
free gratis for nothing — ^just to make a good start."
Says he, "I wouldn't do it if there was no other place
on earth to sent a ship to." Perfect ass, of course.
Rocks, currents, no anchorage, sheer cliff to lay to,
no insurance company would take the risk, didn't
see how he could get loaded under three years. Ass!
I nearly went on my knees to him. "But look at the
thing as it is," says I. "Damn rocks and hurricanes.
Look at it as it is. There's guano there, Queensland
sugar-planters would fight for — ^fight for on the quay,
I tell you." . • . What can you do with a fool?
. • . "That's one of your Kttle jokes, Chester," he
says. • • • Joke! I could have wept. Ask Cap-
tain Robinson here. • • . And there was another
shipowning f eUow— a fat chap in a white waistcoat in
Wellington, who seemed to think I was up to some
swindle or other. "I don't know what sort of fool
you're looking for," he says, "but I am busy just now.
Good morning." I longed to take him in my two hands
and smash him through the window of his own office.
But I didn't. I was as mild as a curate. "Think of
it," says L "Do think it over. I'll call to-morrow.
He grunted something about being "out all day.
On the stairs I felt ready to beat my head against the
wall from vexation. Captain Robinson here can tell
you. It was awful to think of all that lovely stuff
lying waste imder the sun — stuff that would send the
sugar-cane shooting sky-high. The making of Quee^s-
land! The making of Queensland! And in Brisbane,

99
9»

LORD JIM 165

where I went to have a last try, they gave me the name
of a lunatic. Idiots! The only sensible man I came
across was the cabman who drove me about. A
broken-down swell he was, I fancy. Hey! Captain
Robinson? You remember I told you about my
cabby in Brisbane — don't you? The chap had a
wonderful eye for things. He saw it all in a jiffy.
It was a real pleasure to talk with him. One evening
after a devil of a day amongst shipowners I felt so bad
that, says I, ^'I must get dnmk. 0>me along; I
must get drunk, or 1*11 go mad.'* **I am your man,'*
he says; "go ahead." I don't know what I would
have done without him. Hey! Captain Robinson.'

"He poked the ribs of his partner. *He! he!
he!' laughed the Ancient, looked aimlessly down the
street, then peered at me doubtfully with sad, dim
pupils. • • • ^He! he! he!' . . . He leaned
heavier on the umbrella, and dropped his gaze on the
ground. I needn't tell you I had tried to get away
several times, but Chester had foiled every attempt by
simply catching hold of my coat. * One minute. I've a
notion.' * What's your infernal notion?' I exploded
at last. ^If you think I am going in with you . • .'
*No, no, my boy. Too late, if you wanted ever so
much. We've got a steamer.' * You've got the
ghost of a steamer,' I said. ^ Good enough for a start —
there's no superior nonsense about us. Is there.
Captain Robinson?' ^No! no! no!' croaked the old
man without lifting his eyes, and the senile tremble
of his head became almost fierce with determination.
*I understand you know that yoimg chap,' said Chester,
with a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared
long ago. ^He's been having grub with you in the
Malabar last night — so I was told.'

"I said that was true, and after remarking that

166 LORD JIM

he, too, liked to live well and in style, only that, for
the present, he had to be saving of every penny —
^none too many for the business! Isn't that so.
Captain Robinson?' — ^he squared his shoulders and
stroked his dumpy moustache, while the notorious
Robinson, coughing at his side, clung more than ever
to the handle of the umbrella, and seemed ready to
subside passively into a heap of old bones. ^You see,
the old chap has all the money,' whispered Chester,
confidentially. *I've been cleaned out trying to
engineer the dratted thing. But wait a bit, wait a
bit. The good time is coming.' . . . He seemed
suddenly astonished at the signs of impatience I gave.
*0h, crakee!' he cried; *I am telling you of the big-
gest thing that ever was, and you . . .' *I have
an appointment,' I pleaded mildly. *What of that?'
he asked with genuine surprise; *let it wait.' ^That's
exactly what I am doing now,' I remarked; * hadn't
you better tell me what it is you want? ' *Buy twenty
hotels like that,' he growled to himself; *and every
joker boarding in them, too — ^twenty times over.'
He lifted his head smartly. *I want that young chap.'
*I don't imderstand,' I said. *He's no good, is he?'
said Chester, crisply. *I know nothing about it,* I
protested. *Why, you told me yourself he was taking
it to heart,' argued Chester. *Well, in my opinion a
chap who . . . Anyhow, he can't be much good;
but then you see I am on the look-out for somebody,
and I've just got a thing that will suit him. I'll
give him a job on my island.' He nodded signifi-
cantly. *I'm going to dump forty coolies there — if
I've got to steal 'em. Somebody must work the stuflF.
Oh! I mean to act square: wooden shed, corrugated-
iron roof — ^I know a man in Hobart who will take
my bill at six months for the materials. I do. Honoiur

LORD JIM 167

bright. Then there's the water-supply. 1*11 have to
fly round and get somebody to trust me for half-a-dozen
second-hand iron tanks. Catch rain-water, hey?
Let him take charge. Make him supreme boss over
the coolies. Good idea, isn't it? What do you say?'
* There are whole years when not a drop of rain falls
on Walpole,' I said, too amazed to laugh. He bit his
lip and seemed bothered. *0h, well, I will fix up
something for them — or land a supply. Hang it all!
That's not the question.'

''I said nothing. I had a rapid vision of Jim perched
on a shadowless rock, up to his knees in guano, with the
screams of sea-birds in his ears, the incandescent baU
of the sun above his head; the empty sky and the empty
ocean all a-quiver, sinunering together in the heat as far
as the eye could reach. *I wouldn't advise my worst
enemy . . .' I began. * What's the matter with
you?' cried Chester; *I mean to give him a good screw —
that is, as soon as the thing is set going, of course. It's
as easy as falling off a log. Simply nothing to do; two
six-shooters in his belt. . . . Surely he wouldn't
be afraid of anything forty coolies could do — ^with two
six-shooters and he the only armed man, too! It's
much better than it looks. I want you to help me
to talk him over.' *No!' I shouted. Old Robinson
lifted his bleared eyes dismally for a moment, Chester
looked at me with infinite contempt. *So you wouldn't
advise him?' he uttered, slowly. * Certainly not,' I
answered, as indignant as though he had requested me
to help murder somebody; * moreover, I am sure he
wouldn't. He is badly cut up, but he isn't mad as far
as I know.* *He is no earthly good for anything,*
Chester mused aloud. ^He would just have done for
me. If you only could see a thing as it is, you would
see it's the very thing for him. And besides • . •

k

168 LORD JIM

Why! it's the most splendid, sure chance • • .'
He got angry suddenly. ^ I must have a man. There!
. • / He stamped his foot and smiled unpleasantly.
^Anyhow, I could guarantee the island wouldn't sink
under him — and I believe he is a bit particular on that
point/ ^Good morning/ I said, curtly. He looked at
me as though I had been an incomprehensible fool.
. • • ^Must be moving, Captain Robinson,' he
yelled suddenly into the old man's ear. * These Parsee
Johnnies are waiting for us to clinch the bargain.' He
took his partner under the arm with a firm grip, swung
him roimd, and, unexpectedly, leered at me over his
shoulder. *I was trying to do him a kindness,' he
asserted, with an air and tone that made my blood boil.
^ Thank you for nothing — ^in his name,' I rejoined.
*0h! you are devilish smart,' he sneered; *but you are
like the rest of them. Too much in the clouds. See
what you will do with him.' ^I don't know that I
want to do anything with him.' * Don't you?' he
spluttered; his grey moustache bristled with anger,
and by his side the notorious Robinson, propped on
the umbrella, stood with his back to me, as patient
and still as a worn-out cab-horse. 'I haven't found
a guano island,' I said. ^It's my belief you wouldn't
know one if you were led right up to it by the hand,'
he riposted quickly; *and in this world you've got
to see a thing first, before you can make use of it.
Got to see it through and through at that, neither
more nor less.' *And get others to see it, too,' I in-
sinuated, with a glance at the bowed back by his
side. Chester snorted at me. *His eyes are right
enough — don't you worry. He ain't a puppy.' *0h,
dear, no!' I said. 'Come along. Captain Robinson,'
he shouted, with a sort of bullying deference imder
the rim of the old man's hat; the Holy Terror gave

LORD JIM 169

a submissive little jump. The ghost of a steamer
was waiting for them, Fortune on that fair isle ! They
made a curious pair of Argonauts. Chester strode on
leisurely, well set up, portly, and of conquering mien;
the other, long, wasted, drooping, and hooked to his
arm, shuffled his withered shanks with desperate haste.''

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

^^I DID not start in search of Jim at once, only because
I had really an appointment which I could not neglect.
Then, as ill-luck would have it, in my agent's office
I was fastened upon by a fellow fresh from Madagascar
with a little scheme for a wonderful piece of business.
It had something to do with cattle and cartridges and
a Prince Ravonalo something; but the pivot of the
whole affair was the stupidity of some admiral —
Admiral Pierre, I think. Everything turned on that,
and the chap couldn't find words strong enough to
express his confidence. He had globular eyes starting
out of his head with a fishy glitter, bumps on his fore-
head, and wore his long hair brushed back without a
parting. He had a favourite phrase which he kept
on repeating triumphantly, *The mimmum of risk
with the maximum of profit is my motto. What?'
He made my head ache, spoiled my tiffin, but got
his own out of me all right; and as soon as I had shaken
him off, I made straight for the water-side. I caught
sight of Jim leaning over the parapet of the quay.
Three native boatmen quarrelling over five annas
were making an awful row at his elbow. He didn't
hear me come up, but spun round as if the slight
contact of my finger had released a catch. *I was
looking,' he stammered. I don't remember what I
said, not much anyhow, but he made no difficulty in
following me to the hotel.

"He followed me as manageable as a little child,
with an obedient air, with no sort of manifestation,

170

LORD JIM 171

rather as though he had been waiting for me there to
come along and carry him oflf. I need not have been
so surprised as I was at his tractability. On all the
round earth, which to some seems so big and that
others affect to consider as rather smaller than a
mustard-seed, he had no place where he could — what
shall I say? — where he could withdraw. That's it!
Withdraw — ^be alone with his loneliness. He walked
by my side very calm, glancing here and there, and
once turned his head to look after a Sidiboy fireman
in a cutaway coat and yellowish trousers, whose black
face had silky gleams like a lump of anthracite coal.
I doubt, however, whether he saw anything, or even
remained all the time aware of my companionship,
because if I had not edged him to the left here, or
pulled him to the right there, I believe he would have
gone straight before him in any direction till stopped
by a wall or some other obstacle. I steered him into
my bedroom, and sat down at once to write letters.
This was the only place in the world (unless, perhaps,
the Walpole Reef — ^but that was not so handy) where
he could have it out with himself without being both-
ered by the rest of the universe. The danmed thing
— as he had expressed it — ^had not made him invisible,
but I behaved exactly as though he were. No sooner
in my chair I bent over my writing-desk like a medieval
scribe, and, but for the movement of the hand holding
the pen, remained anxiously quiet. I can't say I was
frightened; but I certainly kept as still as if there had
been something dangerous in the room, that at the first
hint of a movement on my part would be provoked to
poimce upon me. There was not much in the room —
you know how these bed-rooms are — ^a sort of four-
poster bedstead under a mosquito-net, two or three
chairs, the table I was writing at, a bare floor. A glass

172 LORD JIM

door opened on an upstairs verandah, and he stood with
his face to it, having a hard time with all possible
privacy. Dusk fell; I lit a candle with the greatest
economy of movement and as much prudence as though
it were an illegal proceeding. There is no doubt that
he had a very hard time of it, and so had I, even to the
point, I must own, of wishing him to the devil, or on
Walpole Reef at least. It occurred to me once or
twice that, after all, Chester was, perhaps, the man
to deal effectively with such a disaster. That strange
idealist had found a practical use for it at once —
unerringly, as it were// It wfts enough to make one
suspect fhatr maybe, he really could see the true
aspect of things that appeared mysterious or utterly
hoprfess tXT less. JLmagnative persons. T' wrote and
wrote; I liquidated aJTlEe lQrF(5SR*'?Sf my correspond-
ence, and then went on writing to people who had
no reason whatever to expect from me a gossipy letter
about nothing at all. At times I stole a sidelong
glance. He was rooted to the spot, but convulsive
shudders ran down his back; his shoulders would
heave suddenly. He was fighting, he was fighting —
mostly for his breath, as it seemed. The massive
shadows, cast all one way from the straight flame
of the candle, seemed possessed of gloomy conscious-
ness; the immobility of the furniture had to my furtive
eye an air of attention. I was becoming fanciful in the
midst of my industrious scribbling; and though, when
the scratching of my pen stopped for a moment, there
was complete silence and stillness in the room, I suffered
from that profound disturbance and confusion of thought
which is caused by a violent and menacing uproar — of a
heavy gale at sea, for instance. Some of you may know
what I mean, — ^that mingled anxiety, distress, and ir-
ritation with a sort of craven feeling creeping in — ^not

LORD JIM 173

pleasant to acknowledge, but which gives a quite special
merit to one's endurance. I don't claim any merit
for standing the stress of Jim's emotions; I could
take refuge in the letters; I could have written to
strangers if necessary. Suddenly, as I was taking
up a fresh sheet of notepaper, I heard a low sound,
the first sound that, since we had been shut up to-
gether, had come to my ears in the dim stillness of
the room. I remained with my head down, with my
hand arrested. Those who have kept vigil by a sick-
bed have heard such faint sounds in the stillness of
the night watches, sounds wrung from a racked body,
from a weary soul. He pushed the glass door with
such force that all the panes rang: he stepped out,
and I held my breath, straining my ears without
knowing what else I expected to hear. He was really
taking too much to heart an empty formality which to
Chester's rigorous criticism seemed unworthy the
notice of a man who could see things as they were.
An empty formality; a piece of parchment. Well,
well. As to the inaccessible guano deposit, that
was another story altogether. One could intelligibly
break one's heart over that. A feeble burst of many
voices mingled with the tinkle of silver and glass
floated up from the dining-room below; through the
open door the outer edge of the light from my candle
fell on his back faintly; beyond all was black; he
stood on the brink of a vast obscurity, like a lonely
figure by the shore of a sombre and hopeless ocean.
There was the Walpole Reef in it — ^to be sure — ^a
speck in the dark void, a straw for the drowning man.
My compassion for him took the shape of the thought
that I wouldn't have liked his people to see him at
that moment. I found it trying myself. His back
was no longer shaken by his gasps; he stood straight

174 LORD JIM

MB an anoWy iaintfy visiUe and still; and tbe mean-
ing cl tliis atilhifaii sank to tbe botU»n cl my aool
like lead into tbe water, and made it ao heavy that
for a aeoond I wished heartify that the ooiy oomse
left open for me were to pay for his fimeraL Even
the law had done with him. To bmy him would
have been such an easy kindness! It would have
been so mudi in aocotdanoe with the wisdom of life,
which consiste in patting out of sight aO the ramndeis
of our tcSfy^ of our weakness, of our mortality; all that
makes against our efficiency— the memoiy of our
frihires, the hints of our undying fears, the bodies of our
deadfriends. Perhaps he dki take it too mudi to hearL
And if so then — Cliester's offer. . . . Atthispmnt
I todL up a fresh sheet and began to write resolutdy.
There was nothing but mysdf between him and the dark
ocean. I had a sense of responsibility. UI qioke,
would that motionless and sufferin^youth leaplnto-the
i* — c4{scurity — clutch at ^e^jdiawB^ I IFound out how
; d£^uinrnia5^ be iEk>metimes to make a sound. Th^ie
I is a wdrd power in a spoken word. And why the
I devil not? I was asking myself persistently while I
drove on with my writing. All at once, on the blank
/ page, under the v^y point of the pen, the two figures
of Chester and his antique partner, very distinct
' and complete, would dodge into view with stride and
gestures, as if reproduced in the fidd of some optical
toy. I would watch them for a while. No! They
were too phantasmal and extravagant to enter into
any one's fate. And a word carries far — ^very far —
deals destruction through time as the bullets go flying
ttffough space. I said nothing; and he, out there
with his back to the light, as if bound, and gagged
hgr aD the invisible foes of man, made no stir and
wSit no sound.^

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

**The time was coming when I should see him loved,
trusted, admired, with a l^end of strength and prowess
forming round his name as though he had been the stuff
of a hero. It's true — ^I assiu*e you; as true as I'm sit-
ting here talking about him in vain. He, on his side,
had that faculty of beholding at a hint the face of his
desire and the shape of his dream, without which the
earth would know no lover and no adventurer. He
captured much honour and an Arcadian happiness
(I won't say anything about innocence) in the bush,
and it was as good to him as the honour and the Ar-
cadian happiness of the streets to another man. Fe-
licity, felicity — ^how shall I say it? — ^is quaffed out of a
golden cup in every latitude: the flavour is with you —
with you alone, and you can make it as intoxicating as
you please. He was of the sort that would drink deep,
as you may guess from what went before. I found
him, if not exactly intoxicated, then at least flushed
with the elixir at his lips. He had not obtained it at
once. There had been, as you know, a period of pro-
bation amongst infernal ship-chandlers, during which
he had suffered and I had worried about — ^about — ^my
trust — ^you may call it. I don't know that I am com-
pletely reassured now, after beholding him in all his
brilliance. That was my last view of him — ^in a strong
light, dominating, and yet in complete accord with his
surroundings — with the life of the forests and with the
life of men. I own that I was impressed, but I must
admit to niyself that after all this is not the lasting im-

175

176 LORD JDl

presflioii* He was protected by his isdatHm^akMieclliis
own sopeficv ldiid» in dose toodi with Nature, that
keeps faith on such easjr terms with her lovers. But
I cannot fix before my eye the image of his safety.
I shall always remember him as seai throu^ the cpeai
door of my room, taking, pohaps, too mudi to heart
the mere consequences of his failure. I am {leased, of
course, that some good — and even some i^endour —
came out of my endeavours; but at times it seems to me
it would have been better for my peace of mind if I had
not stood between him and Chester's confoundedly
goierous offer. I wonder what his exuberant imagina-
tion would have made of Walpole islet — that most
hopelessly forsaken crumb of dry land on the face of
the watfars. It is not likdy I would ever have heard,
for I must tell you that Chester, after calling at some
Australian port to patch up his brig-rigged sea-anach-
ronism, steamed out into the Pacific with a crew
of twenty-two hands all told, and the only news hav-
ing a possible bearing upon the mystery of his fate
was the news of a hurricane which is supposed to have
swept in its course over the Walpole shoals, a month
or so afterwards. Not a vestige of the Argonauts
ever turned up; not a sound came out of the waste.
Finis! The Pacific is the most discreet of live, hot-
tempered oceans: the chiUy Antarctic can keep a

r - secret, too, but more in the manner of a grave.

I ''And there is a sense of blessed finality in such

discretion, which is what we all more or less sincerely
are ready to admit — ^for what else is it that makes
the idea of death supportable? End! Finis! the
potent word that exorcises from the house of life the
haunting shadow of fate. This is what — ^notwith-
standing the testimony of my eyes and his own earnest
assurances — ^I miss when I look back upon Jim's

LORD JIM 177

success. While there's life there is hope, truly; but
there is fear, too. I don't mean to say that I regret my
action, nor will I pretend that I can't sleep o' nights in
consequence; still the idea obtrudes itself that he made j
so much of his disgrace while it is the guilt alone thai/
matters. He was not — ^if I may say so — clear to me.
He was not clear. And there is a suspicion he was not
clear to himself either. There were his fine sensibiUties,
his fine feelings, his fine longings — a. sort of sublimated,
idealised selfishness. He was — ^if you allow me to say
so — ^very fine; very fine — ^and very imfortunate. A
Kttle coarser nature woidd not have borne the strain;
it would have had to come to terms with itself — with a
sigh, with a grunt, or even with a guffaw; a still coarser
one would have remained invulnerably ignorant and
completely uninteresting.

"But he was too interesti^ -or tog. unJortunate^ N

to be thrown to the dogs, jbr even to Chester. I
felt this while I sat with my face over the paper and
he fought and gasped, struggling for his breath in
that terribly stealthy way, in my room; I felt it when
he rushed out on the verandah as if to fling himself over
— ^and didn't; I felt it more and more all the time he
remained outside, faintly lighted on the background of
night, as if standing on the shore of a sombre and hope^
less sea.

"An abrupt heavy rumble made me lift my head.
The noise seemed to roll away, and suddenly a search-
ing and violent glare fell on the blind face of the
night. The sustained and dazzling flickers seemed
to last for an unconscionable time. The growl of
the thunder increased steadily while I looked at
him, distinct and bla<;k, planted solidly upon the
shores of a sea of light. At the moment of greatest
brilliance the darkness leaped back with a culmi-

178 LORD JIM

nating crash, and he vanished before my dazzled eyes
as utterly as though he had been blown to atoms. A
blustering sigh passed; furious hands seemed to tear
at the shrubs, shake the tops of the trees below, slam
doors, break window-panes, all along the front of the
building. He stepped in, closing the door behind him,
and found me bending over the table: my sudden
anxiety as to what he would say was very great, and
akin to a fright. 'May I have a cigarette?' he asked.
I gave a push to the box without raising my head. 'I
want — ^want — ^tobacco,' he muttered. I became ex-
tremely buoyant. 'Just a moment,' I grunted, pleas-
antly. He took a few steps here and there. 'That's
over,' I heard him say. A single distant clap of thun-
der came from the sea like a gun of distress. 'The
monsoon breaks up early this year,' he remarked, con-
versationally, somewhere behind me. This encouraged
me to turn round, which I did as soon as I had finished
addressing the last envelope. He was smoking greedily
in the middle of the room, and though he heard the stir
I made, he remained with his back to me for a time.

'"Come — ^I carried it oflf pretty well,' he said,
wheeling suddenly. 'Something's paid oflf — ^not much.
I wonder what's to come.' His face did not show any
emotion, only it appeared a little darkened and swollen,
as though he had been holding his breath. He smiled
reluctantly as it were, and went on while I gazed up
at him mutely. . . . 'Thank you, though — your
room — ^jolly convenient — ^for a chap — ^badly hipped.'
. • . The rain pattered and swished in the garden;
a water-pipe (it must have had a hole in it) performed
just outside the window a parody of blubbering woe
with funny sobs and gurgling lamentations, inter-
rupted by jerky spasms of silence. . • . *A bit
of shelter,' he mmnbled and ceased.

LORD JIM 179

**A flash of faded lightning darted in through the
black framework of the windows and ebbed out without
any noise. I was thinking how I had best approach
him (I did not want to be flung off again) when he gave
a little laugh. ^No better than a vagabond now'
. . • the end of the cigarette smouldered between
his fingers • . • 'without a single — single,' he
pronounced slowly; *and yet . . .' He paused;
the rain fell with redoubled violence. *Some day one's
bound to come upon some sort of chance to get it all
back again. Must!' he whispered, distinctly, glaring
at my boots.

*'I did not even know what it was he wished so much
to regain, what it was he had so terribly missed. It
might have been so much that it was impossible to
say. A piece of ass's skin, according to Chester.
. . • He looked up at me inquisitively. * Perhaps.
If life's long enough,' I muttered through my teeth
with unreasonable animosity. ^ Don't reckon too
much on it.'

"*Jove! I feel as if nothing could ever touch
me,' he said in a tone of sombre conviction. *If
this business couldn't knock me over, then there's
no fear of there being not enough time to — climb
out, and . . .' He looked upwards.

"It struck me that it is from such as he that the
great army of waifs and strays is recruited, the army
that marches down, down into all the gutters of the
earth. As soon as he left my room, that *bit of shelter,'
he would take his place in the ranks, and begin the
journey towards the bottomless pit. I at least had no
illusions; but it was I, too, who a moment ago had been
so sure of the power of words, and now was afraid to
speak, in the same way one dares not move for fear of
losing a slippery hold. It is when we try to grapple

180 LORD JIM

with another man's intimate need that we perceive how
incomprehensible, wavering, and misty are the beings
that share with us the sight of the stars and the warmth
of the sun. It is as if loneUness were a hard and ab-
solute condition of existence; the envelope of flesh and
blood on which our eyes are fixed melts before the out-
stretched hand, and there remains only the capricious,
unconsolable, and elusive spirit that no eye can follow,
no hand can grasp. It was the fear of losing him that
kept me silent, for it was borne upon me suddenly and
with unaccountable force that should I let him slip away
into the darkness I would never forgive myself.

"*Well. Thanks — once more. YouVe been — er —
uncommonly — ^really there's no word to . . • Un-
commonly! I don't know why, I am sure. I am
afraid I don't feel as grateful as I would if the whole
thing hadn't been so brutally sprung on me. Because
at bottom . . . you, yourself . . .' He stut-
tered.

Possibly,' I struck in. He frowned.
All the same, one is responsible.' He watched me
like a hawk.

"*And that's true, too,' I said.

"*Well. I've gone with it to the end, and I don't
intend to let any man cast it in my teeth without —
without — ^resenting it.' He clenched hid fist.

"'There's yourself,' I said with a smile — ^mirthless
enough, God knows — ^but he looked at me menacingly.
'That's my business,' he said. An air of indomitable
resolution came and went upon his face like a vain
and passing shadow. Next moment he looked a dear
good boy in trouble, as before. He flung away the
cigarette. * Good-bye,' he said, with the sudden haste
of a man who had lingered too long in view of a pressing
bit of work waiting for him; and then for a second or so

cc <

LORD JIM 181

he made not the slightest movement. The downpour
fell with the heavy iminterrupted rush of a sweeping
flood, with a sound of unchecked overwhelming fury
that called to one's mind the images of collapsing
bridges, of uprooted trees, of undermined mountains.
No man could breast the colossal and headlong stream
that seemed to break and swirl against the dim stillness
in which we were precariously sheltered as if on an
island. The perforated pipe gurgled, choked, spat, and
splashed in odious ridicule of a swinmier fighting for his
life. *It is raining,' I remonstrated, *and I • . /
*Rain or shine,' he began, brusquely, checked himself,
and walked to the window. * Perfect deluge,' he mut-
tered after a while : he leaned his forehead on the glass.
*It's dark, too.'

"*Yes, it is very dark,' I said.

"He pivoted on his heels, crossed the room, and
had actually opened the door leading into the cor-
ridor before I leaped up from my chair. *Wait,
I cried, *I want you to . . .' *I can't dine with
you again to-night,' he flimg at me, with one leg
out of the room already. *I haven't the sUghtest
intention to ask you,' I shouted. At this he drew
back his foot, but remained mistrustfully in the very
doorway. I lost no time in entreating him earnestly
not to be absurd; to come in and shut the door."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"He came in at last; but I believe it was mostly
the rain that did it; it was falling just then with a
devastating violence which quieted down graduaDy
while we talked. His manner was very sober and
set; his bearing was that of a naturally taciturn man
possessed by an idea. My talk was of the material
aspect of his position; it had the sole aim of saving him
from the degradation, ruin, and despair that out there
close so swiftly upon a friendless, homeless man; I
pleaded with him to accept my help; I argued reason-
ably: and every time I looked up at that absorbed
smooth face, so grave and youthful, I had a disturbing
sense of being no help but rather an obstacle to some
mysterious, inexplicable, impalpable striving of his
wounded spirit.

"'I suppose you intend to eat and drink and to
sleep imder shelter in the usual way,* I remember
saying with irritation. *You say you won't touch
the money that is due to you.* . . . He came as
near as his sort can to making a gesture of horror.
(There were three weeks and five days* pay owing
him as mate of the Paina.) *Well, that's too little
to matter anyhow; but what will you do to-morrow?
Where will you turn? You must live . . .* *That
isn't the thing,* was the comment that escaped him
under his breath. I ignored it, and went on combating
what I assumed to be the scruples of an exaggerated
delicacy. *0n every conceivable ground,* I concluded,

182

LORD JIM 183

*you must let me help you/ * You can't,' he said very
simply and gently, and holding fast to some deep idea
which I could detect shimmering like a pool of water
in the dark, but which I despaired of ever approaching
near enough to fathom. I surveyed his well-propor-
tioned bulk. 'At any rate,' I said, *I am able to
help what I can see of you. I don't pretend to do
more.' He shook his head sceptically without looking
at me. I got very warm. *But I can,' I insisted. *I
can do even more. I am doing more. I am trusting
you . . .' *The money . . .'he b^an.
*Upon my word you deserve being told to go to the
devil,' I cried, forcing the note of indignation. He
was startled, smiled, and I pressed my attack home.
*It isn't a question of money at all. You are too
superficial,' I said (and at the same time I was thinking
to myself: Well, here goes! And perhaps he is after
all). 'Look at the letter I want you to take. I am
writing to a man of whom I've never asked a favour,
and I am writing about you in terms that one only
ventures to use when speaking of an intimate fri
I make myself unreservedly responsible for you.
That's what I am doing. And really if you will only
reflect a little what that means . . •'

''He lifted his head. The rain had passed away;
only the water-pipe went on shedding tears with an
absurd drip, drip outside the window. It was very
quiet in the room, whose shadows huddled together
in comers, away from the still flame of the candle
flaring upright in the shape of a dagger; his face after
a while seemed suffused by a reflection of a soft light
as if the dawn had broken already.

'Jove!' he gasped out. 'It is noble of you I'
Had he suddenly put out his tongue at me in
derision, I could not have felt more humiliated. I

184 I LORD JIM

thought to myself — Serve me right for a sneaking
hmnbug. . . . His eyes shone straight into my face,
but I perceived it was not a mocking brightness.
All at once he sprang into jerky agitation, like one
of those flat wooden figures that are worked by a
string. His arms went up, then came down with
a slap. He became another man altogether. *And
I had never seen/ he shouted; then suddenly bit
his lip and frowned. ^VWiat a bally ass IVe been/
he said very slow in an awed tone. . . . *You are
a brick/ he cried next in a muffled voice. He snatched
my hand as though he had just then seen it for the first
time, and dropped it at once. *Why! this is what I —
you — ^I . . .'he stammered, and then with a return
of his old stolid, I may say mulish, manner he began
heavily, *I would be a brute now if I . . .' and then
his voice seemed to break. * That's all right,* I said.
I was almost alarmed by this display of feeling, through
which pierced a strange elation. I had pulled the string
accidentally, as it were; I did not fully understand the
working of the toy. *I must go now,' he said. *Jove!
You have helped me. Can't sit still. The very thing
. • .' He looked at me with puzzled admiration.
*The very thing . . .'

"Of course it was the thing. It was ten to one
that I had saved him from starvation — of that peculiar
sort that is almost invariably associated with drink.
This was all. I had not a single illusion on that score,
but looking at him, I allowed myself to wonder at the
nature of the one he had, within the last three minutes, so
evidently taken into his bosom. I had forced into his
hand the means to carry on decently the serious busi-
ness of life, to get food, drink, and shelter of the custom-
ary kind while his wounded spirit, like a bird with a
broken wing, might hop and flutter into some hole to die

LORD JIM 185

quietly of Inanition there. This is what I had thrust
upon him: a definitely small thing; and — ^behold! —
by the manner of its reception it loomed in the dim
light of the candle like a big, indistinct, perhaps a
dangerous shadow. *You don't mind me not saying
anything appropriate/ he burst out. * There isn't
anything one could say. Last night already you had
done me no end of good. Listening to me — ^you know.
I give you my word I've thought more than once the
top of my head would fly oflF . . / He darted —
positively darted — ^here and there, rammed his hands
into his pockets, jerked them out again, flimg his cap
on his head. I had no idea it was in him to be so airily
brisk. I thought of a dry leaf imprisoned in an eddy of
wind, while a mysterious apprehension, a load of in-
definite doubt, weighed me down in my chair. He
stood stock-still, as if struck motionless by a discovery.
*You have given me confidence,' he declared, soberly.
*0h! for God's sake, my dear fellow — don't!' I en-
treated, as though he had hurt me. * All right. I'll shut
up now and henceforth. Can't prevent me thinking
though. . . . Never mind! . . . I'll show yet
. . .' He went to the door in a hurry, paused with
his head down, and came back, stepping deliberately.
*I always thought that if a fellow could begin with a
clean slate . • . And now you . . . in a
measure . . . yes . . . clean slate.' I waved
my hand, and he marched out without looking back;
the sound of his footfalls died out gradually behind the
closed door — ^the unhesitating tread of a man walking in
broad daylight.

"But as to me, left alone with the solitary candle,
I remained strangely unenlightened. I was no longer
young enough to behold at every turn the magnifi-
cence that besets our insignificant footsteps in good

CP ^ IM LORD JIM '

}

and in evil I smiled to think that, after all, it was
yet Jhfift^f us two, who had the light. And I felt
saa>^A clean slate, did he say? As if the initial word
" of each our destiny were not graven in imperishable
characters upon the face of a rock/'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Six months afterwards my friend (he was a cynical,
more than middle-aged bachelor, with a reputation for
eccentricity, and owned a rice-mill) wrote to me, and
judging, from the warmth of my reconmiendation, that
I would like to hear, enlarged a little upon Jim's per-
fections. These were apparently of a quiet and
effective sort. 'Not having been able so far to find
more in my heart than a resigned toleration for any
individual of my kind, I have lived till now alone in a
house that even in this steaming climate could be con-
sidered as too big for one man. I have had him
to live with me for some time past. It seems I haven't
made a mistake.' It seemed to me on reading this
letter that my friend had found in his heart more than
tolerance for Jim, — ^that there were the beginnings of
active liking. Of course he stated his grounds in a
characteristic way. For one thing, Jim kept his
freshness in the climate. Had he been a girl — ^my friend
wrote — one could have said he was blooming — ^bloom-
ing modestly — ^like a violet, not like some of these
blatant tropical flowers. He had been in the house for
six weeks, and had not as yet attempted to slap him on
the back, or address him as *old boy,' or try to make him
feel a superannuated fossil. He had nothing of the exas-
perating yoimg man's chatter. He was good-tempered,
had not much to say for himself, was not clever by
any means, thank goodness — wrote my friend. It
appeared, however, that Jim was clever enough to
be quietly appreciative of his wit, while, on the other

187

188 LORD JIM

hand, he amused him by his nalveness. *The dew
is yet on him, and since I had the bright idea of giv-
ing him a room in the house and having him at meals
I feel less withered myself. The other day he took it
into his head to cross the room with no other purpose
but to open a door for me; and I felt more in touch with
mankind than I had been for years. Ridiculous, isn't
it? Of course I guess there is something — some awful
little scrape — ^which you know all about — but if I am
sure that it is terribly heinous, I fancy one could manage
to forgive it. For my part, I declare I am unable to
imagine him guilty of anything much worse than
robbing an orchard. Is it much worse? Perhaps
you ought to have told me; but it is such a long time
since we both turned saints that you may have forgotten
we, too, had sinned in our time? It may be that some
day I shall have to ask you, and then I shall expect to
be told. I don't care to question him myself till I
have some idea what it is. Moreover, it's too soon as
yet. Let him open the door a few times more for me.
. . .* Thus my friend. I was trebly pleased — at
Jim's shaping so well, at the tone of the letter, at my own
cleverness. Evidently I had known what I was doing.
I had read characters aright, and so on. And what
if something unexpected and wonderful were to come
df it? That evening, reposing in a deck-chair under
tbe ahade of my own poop awning (it was in Hong-
Ecmg harbour), I laid on Jim's behalf the first stone
of a castle in Spain.

**I made a trip to the northward, and when I re-
turned I found another letter from my friend wait-
ing for me. It was the first envelope I tore open.
*1!li.ere are no spoons missing, as far as I know,' ran
&e first line; 'I haven't been interested enough to in-
qidie. He is gone* leaving on the breakfast-table a

■ "^

7; ijp^^' k'y^ t^-^- ^"'h-'

DORD JIM 189

formal little note of apology, which is either silly or
heartless. Probably both — ^and it's all one to me.
Allow me to say, lest you should have some more
mysterious young men in reserve, that I have shut up
shop, definitely and for ever. This is the last eccen-
tricity I shall be guilty of. Do not imagine for a
moment that I care a hang; but he is very much re-
gretted at tennis-parties, and for my own sake IVe told
a plausible lie at the club. • • .' I flung the letter
aside and started looking through the batch on mj,

table, till I came "F'^^^jl!!- han^^'^^"^ - -Would you \
believe it? One chaSSce in a hundred! But it is--'
always that hundredth chance! That little second
engineer of the Patna had turned up in a more or
less destitute state, and got a temporary job of looking
after the machinery of the mill. *I couldn't stand the
familiarity of the little beast,' Jim wrote from a sea-
port seven hundred miles south of the place where he
should have been in clover. *I am now for the time
with Egstrom & Blake, ship-chandlers, as their — ^well —
runner, to call the thing by its right name. For ref-
erence I gave them your name, which they know of
course, and if you could write a word in my favour it
would be a permanent employment.' I was utterly
crushed under the ruins of my castle, but of course I
wrote as desired. Before the end of the year my new
charter took me that way, and I had an opportunity of
seeing him.

"He was still with Egstrom & Blake, and we met
in what they called *our parlour' opening out of the
store. He had that moment come in from boarding a
ship, and confronted me head down, ready for a tussle.
*What have you got to say for yourself?' I began as
soon as we had shaken hands. *What I wrote you —
nothing more,' he said stubbornly. *Did the fellow

k

190 LORD JIM

blab — or what? ' I asked. He looked up at me with a
troubled smile. 'Oh, no! He didn't. He made it a
kind of confidential business between us. He was most
damnably mysterious whenever I came over to the mill;
he would wink at me in a respectful manner — ^as
much as to say, "We know what we know/* Infer-
nally fawning and familiar — and that sort of thing.'
He threw himself into a chair and stared down his
legs. 'One day we happened to be alone and the
fellow had the cheek to say, "WeU, Mr. James" —
I was caUed Mr. James there as if I had been the
son — "here we are together once more. This is
better than the old ship — ^ain't it?" . . . Wasn't
it appalling, eh? I looked at him, and he put on
a knowmg air. "Don't you be uneasy, sir," he
says. "I know a gentleman when I see one, and
I know how a gentleman feels. I hope, though,
you will be keeping me on this job. I had a hard time
of it, too, along of that rotten old Palna racket."
Jove! It was awful. I don't know what I should
have said or done if I had not just then heard Mr.
Denver calling me in the passage. It was tiffin-time,
and we walked together across the yard and through the
garden to the bimgalow. He began to chaff me in his
kindly way ... I believe he liked me . . .'

"Jim was silent for a while.

"'I know he liked me. That's what made it so
hard. Such a splendid man! That morning he
slipped his hand under my arm. • • . He, too, was
familiar with me.' He burst into a short laugh,
and dropped his chin on his breast. 'Pah! When
I remembered how that mean little beast had been
talking to me,' he began suddenly in a vibrating
voice, 'I couldn't bear to think of myseM ... I
suppose you know . . .' I nodded. . . .'More

LORD JIM 191

like a father/ he cried; his voice sank, ^I would have
had to teU him. I couldn't let it go on — could I?'
*Well?' I murmured, after waiting a while, *I pre-
ferred to go/ he said, slowly; 'this thing must be buried/
''We could hear in the shop Blake upbraiding
Egstrom in an abusive, strained voice. They had
been associated for many years, and every day from
the moment the doors were opened to the last minute
before closing, Blake, a little man with sleek, jetty hair
and imhappy, beady eyes, could be heard rowing his
partner incessantly with a sort of scathing and plaintive
fiuy. The sound of that everlasting scolding was part
of the place like the other fixtures; even strangers would
very soon come to disregard it completely unless it be
perhaps to mutter 'Nuisance,' or to get up suddenly and
shut the door of the 'parlour.' Egstrom himself, a raw-
boned, heavy Scandinavian, with a busy manner
and immense blonde whiskers, went on directing
his people, checking parcels, making out bills or writ-
ing letters at a stand-up desk in the shop, and com-
ported himself in that clatter exactly as though he
had been stone-deaf. Now and again he would emit
a bothered perfunctory 'Sssh,' which neither pro-
duced nor was expected to produce the slightest
effect. 'They are very decent to me here,* said Jim.
'Blake's a little cad, but Egstrom's all right.' He
stood up quickly, and walking with measured steps
to a tripod telescope standing in the window and
pointed at the roadstead, he applied his eye to it.
'There's that ship which had been becalmed out-
side all the morning has got a breeze now and is com-
ing in,' he remarked, patiently; 'I must go and board.'
We shook hands in silence, and he turned to go. ' Jim ! '
I cried. He looked round with his hand on the lock.
'You — ^you have thrown away something like a fortune.'

192 LORD JIM

He came back to me aD the way bom the door. ^Sosh
a sploidid old chap/ he said. 'How could I? How
cotildl?' His lips twitched, 'fli^rv it does not matter/

^Ohl you — yon * I began, and had to cast about for

a suitable word, but before I became aware that
there was no name that would just do, he was gcme.
I heard outside Egstrom's deq> gentle voice saying
dieerily, 'lliat's the Sarah W. Granger^ Jimmy. You
must manage to be first aboard'; and directly Blake
struck in, screaming after the manner of an out-
raged cockatoo, 'TeU the captain we've got some
of his mail here. That'll fetch him. D'ye hear.
Mister What's-your-name?' And there was Jim an-
swering E^strom with something boyish in his tone.
'All ri^t. Ill make a race of it.' He seemed to take
refuge in the boat-sailing part of that sorry business.

''I did not see him again that trip, but on my next
(I had a six months' charter) I went up to the store.
Ten yards away from the door Blake's scolding met
my ears, and when I came in he gave me a glance of
utter wretchedness; Egstrom, all smiles, advanced,
extending a large bony hand. ^Glad to see you,
captain. . . . Sssh. , . . Been thinking you
were about due back here. What did you say, sir?
• . . Sssh. • • . Oh! him! He has left us.
Come into the parlour.* . . . After the slam of the
door Blake's strained voice became faint, as the voice
of one scolding desperately in a wilderness. . . .
*Put us to a great inconvenience, too. Used us badly —
I must say . . .' * Where's he gone to? Do you
know?' I asked. *No. It's no use asking either,'
said Egstrom, standing bewhiskered and obliging be-
fore me with his arms hanging down his sides clumsily
and a thin silver watch-chain looped very low on a
rucked-up blue serge waistcoat. * A man like that don't

LORD JIM 193

go anywhere in particular/ I was too concerned at the
news to ask for the explanation of that pronounce-
ment, and he went on. *He left — diet's see — the
very day a steamer with returning pilgrims from the
Red Sea put in here with two blades of her propeller
gone. Three weeks ago now.* *Wasn*t there some-
thing said about the Patna case?' I asked, fearing the
worst. He gave a start, and looked at me as if I had
been a sorcerer. *Why, yes! How do you know?
Some of them were talking about it here. There was a
captain or two, the manager of Vanlo's engineering shop
at the harbour, two or three others, and myself. Jim
was in here, too, having a sandwich and a glass of beer;
when we are busy — ^you see, captain — ^there's no time
for a proper tiffin. He was standing by this table eat-
ing sandwiches, and the rest of us were round the tele-
scope watching that steamer come in; and by and by
Vanlo's manager began to talk about the chief of
the Patna; he had done some repairs for him once,
and from that he went on to tell us what an old ruin
she was, and the money that had been made out of
her. He came to mention her last voyage, and then
we all struck in. Some said one thing and some
another — ^not much — ^what you or any other man
might say; and there was some laughing. Captain
O'Brien of the Sarah W. GrangeTy a large, noisy old
man with a stick — ^he was sitting listening to us in
this arm-chair here — ^he let drive suddenly with his
stick at the floor, and roars out, "Skunks!" • . .
Made us all jump. Vanlo's manager winks at us
and asks, "What's the matter. Captain O'Brien?"
"Matter! matter!" the old man began to shout;
"what are you Injuns laughing at? It's no laugh-
ing matter. It's a disgrace to human natur' — ^that's
what it is. I would despise being seen in the same

194 LORD JIM

room with one of those men. Yes» sir!'* He seemed
to catch my eye like, and I had to speak out of civility.
"Skunks!" says I, "of course, Captain O'Brien, and I
wouldn't care to have them here myself, so you're quite
safe in this room. Captain O'Brien. Have a little some-
thing cool to drink." "Dam' your drink, Egstrom,"
says he, with a twinkle in his eye; "when I want a drink
I will shout for it. I am going to quit. It stinks here
now." At this all the others burst out laughing, and
out they go after the old man. And then, sir, that
blasted Jim he puts down the sandwich he had in his
hand and walks round the table to me; there was his
glass of beer poured out quite fuU. "I am off," he
says — ^just like this. "It isn't half -past one yet,"
says I; "you might snatch a smoke first." I thought
he meant it was time for him to go down to his work.
When I understood what he was up to, my arms fell —
so! Can't get a man like that every day, you know,
sir; a regular devil for sailing a boat; ready to go out
miles to sea to meet ships in any sort of weather.
More than once a captain would come in here full of it
and the first thing he would say would be, "That's a
reckless sort of a lunatic you've got for water-clerk,
Egstrom. I was feeling my way in at daylight under
short canvas when there comes flying out of the mist
right under my forefoot a boat half under water,
sprays going over the masthead, two frightened nig-
gers on the bottom boards, a yelling fiend at the tiller.
Hey! hey! Ship ahoy! ahoy! Captain! Hey! hey!
Egstrom & Blake's man first to speak to you! Hey!
hey! Egstrom & Blake! HaUo! hey! whoop! Sack
the niggers — out reefs — ^a squaU on at the time — shoots
ahead whooping and yelling to me to make sail and he
would give me a lead in — laaasJife^^^Pninnthnn n mnn:
Never saw a boat handled like that in all my life.

LORD JIM 195

rniilHnj- liRVP h^n jiyTiV — ^was he? Such a quiet,
soft-spoken chap, too — ^blushHEe a girl when he came on
board. ..." I teU you, Captain Marlow, nobody
had a chance against us with a strange ship when
Jim was out. The other ship-chandlers just kept
their old customers, and . . •'

Egstr5m appeared overcome with emotion.
Why, sir — ^it seemed as though he wouldn't
mind going a hundred miles out to sea in an old shoe
to nab a ship for the firm. If the business had been his
own and all to make yet, he couldn't have done more in
that way. And now ... all at once . . .
like this! Thinks I to myself: ^'Oho! a rise in the screw
— ^that's the trouble — ^is it? All right,^* says I, "no
need of all that fuss with me, Jinuny. Just mention
your figure. Anything in reason.** He looks at me as
if he wanted to swallow something that stuck in his
throat. "I can't stop with you." "What's that
blooming joke?" I asks. He shakes his head, and I
could see in his eye he was as good as gone already, sir.
So I turned to Um and slanged him till all was blue.
" What i s it you're run ningjtw fl.y fron^?" I asks. " Who
Has Been gettmg at you? What scared you? You
haven't as much sense as a rat; they don't clear out
from a good ship. Where do you expect to get a better
berth? — ^you this and you that." I made him look
sick, I can tell you. "This business ain't going to
sink," says I. He gave a big jump. "Good-bye," he
says, nodding at me like a lord; "you ain't half a bad
chap, EgstrSm. I give you my word that if you knew
my reasons you wouldn't care to keep me." "That's
the biggest lie you ever told in your life," says I;
"I know my own mind." He made me so mad tiiat I
had to laugh. "Can't you really stop long enough to
drink this glass of beer here, you funny beggar, you?"

196 LORD JIM

I don't know what came over him; he didn't seem able to
find the door; something comical, I can tell you, cap-
tain. I drank the beer myself. "Well, if you're in
such a hurry, here's luck to you in your own drink,"
says I; "only, you mark my words, if you keep up this
game you'll very soon find that the earth ain't big
enough to hold you — that's all." He gave me one
black look, and out he rushed with a face fit to scare
little children.'

"EgstrOm snorted bitterly, and combed one auburn
whisker with knotty fingers. * Haven't been able to
get a man that was any good since. It's nothing but
worry, worry, worry in business. And where might
you have come across him, captain, if it's fair to ask? '

"*He was the mate of the Patna that voyage,' I
said, feeling that I owed some explanation. For a
time Egstr5m remained very still, with his fingers
plunged in the hair at the side of his face, and then
exploded. *And who the devil cares about that?'
*I daresay no one,' I began . • . *And what the
devil is he — anyhow — ^for to go on Uke this?'
He stuffed suddenly his left whisker into his mouth and
stood amazed. *Jee!' he exclaimed, *I told him the
earth wouldn't be big enough to hold his caper.' "

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"I HAVE told you these two episodes at length to show
his manner of dealing with himself under the new con-
ditions of his life. There were many others of the sort,
more than I could count on the fingers of my two hands.
They were all equally tinged by a high-minded ab-
surdity of intention which made their futility profound
and touching. To fling away your daily bread so as to
get your hands free for a grapple with a ghost may be an
act of prosaic heroism. Men had done it before (though
we who have lived know full well that it is not the
haunted soul but the hungry body that makes an out-
cast), and men who had eaten and meant to eat every
day had applauded the creditable folly. He was indeed "^
unfortunate, for all his recklessness could not carry him
out from under the shadow. There was always a
doubt of his courage. The truth seems to be that it is
impossible to lay the ghost of a fact. You can face it or
shirk it — ^and I have come across a man or two who
could wink at their familiar shades. Obviously Jim
was not of the winking sort; but what I could never
make up my mind about was whether his line of con-
duct amounted to shirking his ghost or to facing him
out.

"I strained my mental eyesight only to discover that,

as with the complexion of all our actions, the shade of

difference was so delicate that it was impossible to say^^r-v

/*'Tt might have been flight and it might have been a mode I

I of comb ats To the common mind he became known as

-^' a'nreilingstone, because this was the funniest part; he

197

198 LORD 31M

did after a time become perfectly known, and even
notorious, within the circle of his wanderings (which
had a diameter of, say, three thousand miles), in the
same way as an eccentric character is known to a whole
countryside. For instance, in Bangkok, where he found
employment with Yucker Brothers, charterers and teak
mgPj^ ^m^tj LJtwiu^ almost pathetic to see him go about
m sunshine hugging his secret, which was known to the
very up-coimtry logs on the river. fSchomberg, the
l:e6per of the hotel whereTieT)oar3ed7a hirsute Alsatian
of manly bearing and an irrepressible retailer of aU the
scandalous gossip of the place, would, with both elbows
on the table, impart an adorned version of the story to
any guest who cared to imbibe knowledge along with
the more costly liquors. ^And, mind you, the nicest
fellow you could meet,* would be his generous con-
clusion; 'quite superior.' It says a lot for the casual
crowd that frequented Schomberg's establishment that
Jim managed to hang out in Bangkok for a whole six
months. I remarked that people, perfect strangers,
took to him as one takes to a nice child. His manner
was reserved, but it was as though his personal appear-
ance, his hair, his eyes, his smile, made friends for him
wherever he went. And, of course, he was no fool. I
heard Siegmund Yucker (native of Switzerland), a
gentle creature ravaged by a cruel dyspepsia, and so
frightfully lame that his head swung through a quarter
of a circle at every step he took, declare appreciatively
that for one so young he was *of great gabasidy,* as
though it had been a mere question of cubic contents.
'Why not send him up country?* I suggested anxiously.
(Yucker Brothers had concessions and teak forests in the
interior.) *If he has capacity, as you say, he will soon
get hold of the work. And physically he is very fit.
His health is always exceUent.* *Ach! It*s a great

LORD JIM 199

ting in dis goundry to be vree vrom tispep-shia/ sighed
poor Yucker enviously, casting a stealthy glance at the
pit of his ruined stomach. I left him dnunming pen-
sively on his desk and muttering, ^Es ist ein idee. Es
ist ein idee/ Unfortunately, that very evening an un-
pleasant affair took place in the hotel.

"I don't know that I blame Jim very much, but it was
a truly regrettable incident. It belonged to the lam-
entable species of bar-room scuffles, and the other
party to it was a cross-eyed Dane of sorts whose visit-
ing card recited under his misbegotten name: first
Heutenant in the Royal Siamese Navy. The fellow, of
course, was utterly hopeless at billiards, but did not
Uke to be beaten, I suppose. He had had enough to
drink to turn nasty after the sixth game, and make some
scornful remark at Jim's expense. Most of the people
there didn't hear what was said, and those who had
heard seemed to have had all precise recollection scared
out of them by the appalling nature of the consequences
that immediately ensued. It was very lucky for the
Dane that he could swim, because the room opened on a
verandah and the Menam flowed below very wide and
black. A boat-load of Chinamen, bound, as likely as
not, on some thieving expedition, fished out the officer
of the King of Siam, and Jim turned up at about mid-
night on board my ship without a hat. * Everybody in
the room seemed to know,' he said, gasping yet from the
contest, as it were. He was rather sorry, on general
principles, for what had happened, though in this case
there had been, he said, *no option.' But what dis-
mayed him was to find the nature of his burden as well
known to everybody as though he had gone about all
that time carrying it on his shoulders. ^.Nftturally after
this he couldn't remain in the placew, 'He was univer-"^ - . ^
sally condemned for the brutal violence, so unbecoming

300 LORD JIM

7 a man in his delicate position; some maintained he had
^5een disgracefully drunk at the time; others criticised
his want of tact. Even Schomberg was very much
annoyed. *He is a very nice young man/ he said,
argumentatively, to me, *but the Heutenant is a first-
rate fellow, too. He dines every night at my table
d'hdtey you know. And there's a billiard-cue broken.
I can't allow that. First thing this morning I went over
with my apologies to the heutenant, and I think I've
made it all right for myself; but only think, captain, if
everybody started such games! Why, the man might
have been drowned! And here I can't run out into the
next street and buy a new cue. I've got to write to
Europe for them. No, no! A temper like that won't
do!' . . . He was extremely sore on the subject.
"This was the worst incident of all in his — ^his re-
treat. Nobody could deplore it more than myself; for
if, as somebody said hearing him mentioned, 'Oh, yes!
I know. He has knocked about a good deal out here,'
yet he had somehow avoided being battered and chipped
in the process. This last affair, however, made me
seriously uneasy, because if his exquisite sensibihties
were to go the length of involving him in pot-house
shindies, he would lose his name of an inoffensive, if
aggravating, fool, and acquire that of a common loafer.
For all my confidence in him I could not help reflecting
that in such cases from the name to the thing itself is
but a step. I suppose you will understand that by that
time I could not think of washing my hands of him. I
took him away from Bangkok in my ship, and we had a
longish passage. It was pitiful to see how he shrank
within himself. A seaman, even if a mere passenger,
takes an interest in a ship, and looks at the sea-life
around him with the critical enjoyment of a painter, for
instance, looking at another man's work. In every

k

LORD JIM 201

sense of the expression he is * on deck' ; but my Jim, for
the most part, skulked down below as though he had
been a stowaway. He infected me so that I avoided
speaking on professional matters, such as would suggest
themselves naturally to two sailors during a passage.
For whole days we did not exchange a word; I felt
extremely imwilling to give orders to my oflGicers in his
presence. Often, when alone with him on deck or in
the cabin, we didn't know what to do with our eyes.

''I placed him with De Jongh, as you know, glad
enough to dispose of him in any way, yet persuaded
that his position was now growing intolerable. He had
lost some of that elasticity which had enabled him to re-
bound back into his imcompromising position after
every overthrow. One day, coming ashore, I saw him
standing on the quay; the water of the roadstead and
the sea in the offing made one smooth ascending plane,
and the outermost ships at anchor seemed to ride
motionless in the sky. He was waiting for his boat,
which was being loaded at our feet with packages of
small stores for some vessel ready to leave. After
eKchanging greetings, we remained silent — ^side by side.
*Jove!' he said, suddenly, *this is killing work.'

"He smiled at me; I must say he generally could
manage a smile. I made no reply. I knew very well
he was not alluding to his duties; he had an easy time
of it with De Jongh. Nevertheless, as soon as he had
spoken I became completely convinced that the work
was killing. I did not even look at him. * Would you
like,' said I, *to leave this part of the world altogether;
try California or the West Coast? I'll see what I can
do . . .' He interrupted me a little scornfully.
*What difference would it make?' ... I felt at
once convinced that he was right. It would make no
difference; it was not relief he wanted; I seemed to per-

202 LORD JIM

ceive dimly that what he wanted, what he was, as it
were, waiting for, was something not easy to define —
something in the nature of an opportunity. I had given
him many opportunities, but they had been merely
opportunities to earn his bread. Yet what more could
any man do? The position struck me as hopeless,
and poor Brieriy's saying recurred to me, 'Let him creep
twenty feet underground and stay there.' Better that,
I thou^t, than this waiting above ground for the im-
possible. Yet one could not be sure even of that.
There and then, before his boat was three oars' lengths
away from the quay, I had made up my mind to go and
consult St^kthi the evening.

'^Thi^^&te^was a wealthy and respected merchant.
His 'house^ (because it was a house. Stein & Co., and
there was some sort of partner who, as Stein said,
'looked after the Moluccas') had a large inter-island
business, with a lot of trading posts established in the
most out-of-the-way places for collecting the produce.
His wealth and his respectability were not exactly the
reasons why I was anxious to seek his advice. I desired
to confide my difficulty to him because he was one of
the most trustworthy men I had ever known. The
gentle light of a simple imwearied, as it were, and in-
telligent good-nature illumined his long hairless face.
It had deep downward folds, and was pale as of a man
who had always led a sedentary life — which was in-
deed very far from being the case. His hair was thin,
and brushed back from a massive and lofty forehead.
One fancied that at twenty he must have looked very
much like what he was now at threescore. It was a
student's face; only the eyebrows nearly all white, thick
and bushy, together with the resolute searching glance
that came from under them, were not in accord with
his, I may say, learned appearance. He was tall

«I-.J'>.'. r

LORD JIM 203

and loose- jointed; his slight stoop, together with an
innocent smile, made him appear benevolently ready to
lend you his ear; his long arms with pale big hands had
rare deliberate gestures of a pointing out, demonstrating
kind. I speak of him at length, because imder this
exterior, and in conjunction with an upright and in-
dulgent nature, ^^s man possessed an intrepidity bF"
^''spiHl and a physical courage that could have been called
reckless had it not been like a natural function of the
body— say good digestion, for Jssta^ic^r^^
unconscious of itself. ■'It is sometimes said of a man K
^at lie carries his life m his hand. Such a saying would
have been inadequate if applied to him; during the early
part of his existence in the East he had been playing
ball with it. All this was in the past, but I knew the
story of his life and the origin of his fortime. He was
also a naturalist of som e distinc tion, or perhaps I
should say a learneJ collector. Entomology was his
special study. His collection of Buprestidce and Longi-
corns — beetles all — ^horrible miniature monsters, look-
ing malevolent in death' aifdTmmobility, and his cabinet
of butterflies, beautiful and hovering under the glass of
cases on lifeless wings, had spread his fame far over the
earth. The name of this merchant, adventurer, some-
time adviser of a Malay sultan (to whom he never
alluded otherwise than as ^my poor Mohammed
Bonso'), had, on account of a few bushels of dead in-
sects, become known to learned persons in Europe, who
could have had no conception, and certainly would not
have cared to know anything, of his life or character.
I, who knew, considered him an eminently suitable
person to receive my confidences about Jim's difficulties
as well as my own."

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Late in the evening I entered his study, after
traversing an imposing but empty dining-room very
dimly lit. The house was silent. I was preceded by
an elderly grim Javanese servant in a sort of livery of
white jacket and yellow sarong, who, after throwing
the door open, exclaimed low, *0 master!' and stepping
aside, vanished in a mysterious way as though he had
been a ghost only momentarily embodied for that
particular service. Stein turned round with the chair,
and in the same movement his spectacles seemed to get
pushed up on his forehead. He welcomed me in his
quiet and humorous voice. Only one comer of the vast
room, the comer in which stood his writing-desk, was
strongly lighted by a shaded reading-lamp, and the rest
of the spacious apartment melted into shapeless gloom
like a cavern. Narrow shelves filled with dark boxes
of uniform shape and colour ran roimd the walls, not
from floor to ceiling, but in a sombre belt about four
feet broad. Catacombs of beetles. Wooden tablets
were hung above at irregular intervals. The light
reached one of them, and the word Coleoptera written in
gold letters glittered mysteriously upon a vast dimness.
The glass cases containing the collection of butterflies
were ranged in three long rows upon slender-legged
little tables. One of these cases had been removed
from its place and stood on the desk, which was be-
strewn with oblong slips of paper blackened with
minute handwriting.

"*So you see me — so,' he said. His hand hovered

204

LORD JIM 206

over the case where a butterfly in solitary grandeur
spread out dark bronze wings, seven inches or more
across, with exquisite white veinings and a gorgeous
border of yellow spots. *Only one specimen like this
they have in your London, and then — ^no more. To
my small native town this my collection I shall be-
queath. Something of me. The best.'

"He bent forward in the chair and gazed intently,
his chin over the front of the case. I stood at his back.
* Marvellous,' he whispered, and seemed to forget my
presence. His history was curious. He had been bom
in Bavaria, and when a youth of twenty-two had taken
an active part in the revolutionary movement of 1848.
Heavily compromised, he managed to make his escape,
and at first found a refuge with a poor republican watch-
maker in Trieste. From there he made his way to
TripoK with a stock of cheap watches to hawk about, —
not a very great opening truly, but it turned out lucky
enough, because it was there he came upon a Dutch
traveller — a rather famous man, I believe, but I don't
remember his name. It was that naturalist who,
engaging him as a sort of assistant, took him to the
East. They travelled in the Archipelago together and
separately, collecting insects and birds, for four years or
more. Then the naturalist went home, and Stein,
having no home to go to, remained with an old trader
he had come across in his journeys in the interior of
Celebes — if Celebes may be said to have an interior.
This old Scotsman, the only white man allowed to re-
side in the country at the time, was a privileged friend of
the chief ruler of Wajo States, who was a woman. I
often heard Stein relate how that chap, who was
slightly paralysed on one side, had introduced him to
the native court a short time before another stroke
carried him off. He was a heavy man with a patriarchal

206 LORD JIM

white beard, and of imposing stature. He came into the
coimcil-hall where all the rajahs, pangerans, and head-
men were assembled, with the queen, a fat wrinkled
woman (very free in her speech. Stein said), reclining
on a high couch under a canopy. He dragged his leg,
thumping with his stick, and grasped Stein's arm, lead-
ing him right up to the couch. *Look, queen, and you
rajahs, this is my son,' he proclaimed in a stentorian
voice. *I have traded with yoiu* fathers, and when I
die he shall trade with you and your sons/

"By means of this simple formality Stein inherited
the Scotsman's privileged position and all his stock-in-
trade, together with a fortified house on the banks of the
only navigable river in the country. Shortly afterwards
"" tEe"lC)ld queen, who was so free in her speech, died, and
the country became distiu-bed by various pretenders
1 to the throne. Stein joined the party of a younger son,
i^^ the one of whom thirty years later he never spoke other-
wise but as *my poor Mohammed Bonso.' They both
became the heroes of innumerable exploits; they had
wonderful adventures, and once stood a siege in the
Scotsman's house for a month, with only a score of
followers against a whole army. I believe the natives
talk of that war to this day. Meantime, it seems. Stein
never failed to annex on his own account every butter-
fly or beetle he could lay hands on. After some eight
years of war, negotiations, false truces, sudden out-
breaks, reconciliation, treachery, and so on, and just as
peace seemed at last permanently established, his *poor
Mohammed Bonso' was assassinated at the gate of his
own royal residence while dismounting in the highest
spirits on his return from a successful deer-hunt. This
event rendered Stein's position extremely insecure, but
he would have stayed perhaps had it not been that a
short time afterwards he lost Mohammed's sister ('my

LORD JIM 207

dear wife the princess/ he used to say solemnly), by
whom he had had a daughter — smother and child both
dying within three days of each other from some in-
fectious fever. He left the country, which this cruel
loss had made unbearable to him. Thus ended the
first and adventurous part of his existence. What
followed was so diflferent that, but for the reality of
sorrow which remained with him, this strange part
must have resembled a dream. He had a little money;
he started life afresh, and in the course of years acquired
a considerable fortune. At first he had travelled a good
deal amongst the islands, but age had stolen upon him,
and of late he seldom left his spacious house three miles
out of town, with an extensive garden, and surrounded
by stables, offices, and bamboo cottages for his servants
and dependants, of whom he had many. He drove in
his bu^ every morning to town, where he had an
office with white and Chinese clerks. He owned a small
fleet of schooners and native craft, and dealt in island
produce on a large scale. For the rest he lived solitary,
but not misanthropic, with his books and his collection,
classing and arranging specimens, corresponding with
entomologists in Europe, writing up a descriptive
catalogue of his treasiu*es. Such IvaS the hisfory of the
mail whom I had come to consult upon Jim's case with-
out any definite hope. Simply to hear what he woidd
have to say would have been a relief. I was very
anxious, but I respected the intense, almost passionate,
absorption with which he looked at a butterfly, as
though on the bronze sheen of these frail wings, in the
white tracings, in the gorgeous markings, he could see
other things, an image of something as perishable and
defying destruction as these delicate and lifeless tissues
displaying a splendour immarred by death.

Marvellous!' he repeated, looking up at me.

tti

208 LORD JIM

*Look! The beauty — but that is nothing — ^look at
the accuracy^ the harmony. And so fragile! And so
strong ! And so exact ! TTbis is Nature — ^the balance of
colossal forces. Every star is so — ^and every blade of
grass stands so — and the mighty Kosmos in perfect
equilibrium produces — this. This wonder; this master-
JgCfi^liLJiJature — the great artist.*

"* Never hearff an entomologist go on li ke this ,ll ob- '
erved, cheerfully. ^Masterpiece! Aiid^KiJcrfman?* i

"*Man is amazing, but he is not a masterpiece^!^ he
said, keeping his eyes &ted on the glass cai^e. ^Perhaps
i _tibeartist was a little mad. Eh? What do you think?

< / Sometimes it seems to me that man is cqmfj jsdis^e^ is

not wantftdjuwhere thgi^ for him; for if not,

why sho^ldJiP wni\ff^\J^ j^ace? Why shouldtce run
about here and theremaking a great noise about him-
self, talking about the stars, distiu*bing the blades of
grass? . . .'
-^"Catching butterflies,' I chimed in.

"He smiled, threw himself back in his chair, and
stretched his legs. *Sit down,' he said. *I captured
this rare specimen myself one very fine morning. And
I had a very big emotion. You don't know what it is
for a collector to capture such a rare specimen. You
can't know.'

"I smiled at my ease in a rocking-chair. His eyes
seemed to look far beyond the wall at which they stared;
and he narrated how, one night, a messenger arrived
from his *poor Mohammed,' requiring his presence at
the * residenz' — as he called it — which was distant some
nine or ten miles by a bridle-path over a cultivated
plain, with patches of forest here and there. Early in
the morning he started from his fortified house, after
embracing his little Emma, and leaving the * princess,'
yhis wife, in command. He described how she came with

^

LORD JIM 209

him as far as the gate, walking with one hand on the
neck of his horse; she had on a white jacket, gold pins
in her hair, and a brown leather belt over her left
shoulder with a revolver in it. *She talked as women
will talk,' he said, Helling me to be careful, and to try to
get back before dark, and what a great wickedness it
was for me to go alone. We were at war, and the
country was not safe; my men were putting up bullet-
proof shutters to the house and loading their rifles, and
she begged me to have no fear for her. She could de-
fend the house against anybody till I returned. And I «
laughed with pleasure a little. I liked to see her so
brave and young and strong. I, too, was young then.
At the gate she caught hold of my hand and gave it one
squeeze and fell back. I made my horse stand still out-
side till I heard the bars of the gate put up behind me.
There was a great enemy of mine, a great noble — and a
great rascal, too — ^roaming with a band in the neighbour-
hood. I cantered for four or five miles; there had been
rain in the night, but the mists had gone up, up — and
the face of the earth was clean ; it lay smiling to me, so
fresh and innocent — ^like a little child. Suddenly some-
body fires a volley — twenty shots at least it seemed to
me. I hear bullets sing in my ear, and my hat jumps
to the back of my head. It was a little intrigue, you
understand. They got my poor Mohammed to send for
me and then laid tiiat ambush. I see it all in a minute,

and I think This wants a little management.

My pony snort, jump, and stand, and I fall slowly for-
ward with my head on his mane. He begins to walk,
and with one eye I could see over his neck a faint cloud
of smoke hanging in front of a clump of bamboos to my

left. I think Aha! my friends, why you not

wait long enough before you shoot? This is not yet
gelungen. Oh, no ! I get hold of my revolver with my

210 LORD JIM

right hand — quiet — quiet. After all, there were only
seven of these rascals. They get up from the grass and
start running with their sarongs tucked up, waving
spears above their heads, and yelling to each other to
look out and catch the horse, because I was dead. I
let them come as close as the door here, and then bang,
bang, bang — ^take aim each time, too. One more shot I
fire at a man's back, but I miss. Too far already. And
then I sit alone on my horse with the clean earth smiling
at me, and there are the bodies of three men lying on the
groimd. One was curled up like a dog, another on his
back had an arm over his eyes as if to keep off the sun,
and the third man he draws up his leg very slowly and
makes it with one kick straight again. I watch him
very carefully from my horse, but there is no more —
bleibt ganz ruhiff — ^keep still, *so. And as I looked at his
face for some sign of life I observed something like a
faint shadow pass over his forehead. It was the shadow
of this butterfly. Look at the form of the wing. This
species fly high with a strong flight. I raised my eyes

and I saw him fluttering away. I think Can it

be possible? And then I lost him. I dismoimted and
went on very slow, leading my horse and holding my
revolver with one hand and my eyes darting up and
down and right and left, everywhere! At last I saw
him sitting on a small heap of dirt ten feet away. At
once my heart began to beat quick. I let go my horse,
keep my revolver in one hand, and with the other snatch
my soft felt hat off my head. One step. Steady. Another
step. Flop ! I got him ! When I got up I shook like a
leaf with excitenent, and when I opened these beautiful
wings and made sure what a rare and so extraordinary
perfect specimen I had, my head went roimd and my
legs became so weak with emotion that I had to sit on
the ground. I had greatly desired to possess myself

LORD JIM 211

of a specimen of that species when collecting for the
professor. I took long journeys and underwent great
privations; I had dreamed of him in my sleep, and here
suddenly I had him in my fingers — ^f or myself ! In the
words of the poet' (he pronoimced it 'boet') —

So halt' ich's endlich denn in meinen Hlliideny
Und nenn' es in gewissem Sinne mein." '

He gave to the last word the emphasis of a suddenly
lowered voice, and withdrew his eyes slowly from my
face. He began to charge a long-stemmed pipe busily
and in silence, then, pausing with his thumb on the
orifice of the bowl, looked again at me significantly.

"*Yes, my good friend. On that day I had nothing
to desire; I had greatly annoyed my principal enemy;
I was young, strong; I had friendship; I had the love'
(he said *lof') *of woman, a child I had, to make my
heart very f idl — ^and even what I had once dreamed in
my sleep had come into my hand, too ! '

"He struck a match, which flared violently. His
thoughtful placid face twitched once.

"* Friend, wife, child,' he said, slowly, gazing at the
small flame — *phoo!' The match was blown out. He
sighed and turned again to the glass case. The frail and
beautiful wings quivered faintly, as if his breath had for
an instant called back to life that gorgeous object of his
dreams.

""Til A work,' h^ b^an, suddenly, pointing to the
scattered s lips, and in his usual gentle and cheery tone,
jTogress. I have been this rare speci-
men describing. • . . "^Na! And what is your good
news?'

"'To tell you the truth. Stein,' I said with an eflfort
that surprised me, 'I came here to describe a speci-
men.

_^ ^"

212 LORD JIM

"* Butterfly?' he asked, with an unbelievmg and
humorous eagerness.

"'Nothing so perfect/ I answered, feeUng suddenly
dispirited with all sorts of doubts. ^A man!'

'''Ach so?' he murmured, and his smiling counte-
nance, turned to me, became grave. Then after look-
ing at me for a while he said slowly, * Well — ^I am a man,
too.'

"Here you have him as he was; he knew how to be so
generously encouraging as to make a scrupulous man
hesitate on the brink of confidence; but if I did hesitate
it was not for long.

"He heard me out, sitting with crossed l^s. Some-
times his head would disappear completely in a great
eruption of smoke, and a sympathetic growl would
come out from the cloud. When I finished he uncrossed
his legs, laid down his pipe, leaned forward towards me
earnestly with his elbows on the arms of his chair, the
tips of his fingers together. ~ ' \ ....--«"*^^

"*I understand very well. I He is romantic'

"He had diagnosed the cksctcfr-fB^nxiA at first I
was quite startled to find how simple it was; and indeed
our conference resembled so much a medical consulta-
tion — Stein, of learned aspect, sitting in an arm-chair
before his desk; I, anxious, in another, facing him, but
a little to one side — ^that it seemed natural to ask —

"'What'sgoodforit?'
_^*He lifted up a long forefinger.
^ " ^TKere is only one remedy! On,e thing alone can us
Jrom being ourselves cure ! ' The finger came down on
the desk with a smart rap. The case which he had made
to look so simple before became if possible still simpler —
and altogether hopeless. There was a pause. *Yes,'
said I, * strictly speaking, the question is not how to get
cured, but how to live.'

LORD JIM 213

"He approved with his head, a little sadly as it
seemed. ^Jal jal In general, adapting the words of
your great poet: That is the question. . . / He
went on nodding sympathetically. . . . *How to
be ! Achl How to be.'

"He stood up with the tips of his fingers resting on
the desk.

" * We want in so many different ways to be/ he began
again. *This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap
of dirt and sits still on it; but man he will never on his
heap of mud keep still. He want to be so, and again
he want to be so. . . .' He moved his hand up,
then down. . . . *He wants to be a saint, and he
wants to be a devil — and every time he shuts his eyes he
sees himself as a very fine fellow — so fine as he can
never be. . . . Jn^a ch-eam. .;..'"

"He lowered the glass lid, the automatic lock clicked
sharply, and taking up the case in both hands he bore
it religiously away to its place, passing out of the bright
circle of the lamp into the ring of fainter light — ^into
shapeless dusk at last. It had an odd effect — as if
these few steps had carried him out of this concrete and
perplexed world. His tall form, as though robbed of its
substance, hovered noiselessly over invisible things with
stooping and indefinite movements; his voice, heard in
that remoteness where he could be glimpsed mysteri-
ously busy with immaterial cares, was no longer incisive,
seemed to roll voluminous and grave— mellowed by
distance.

"*And because you not always can keep your eyes
shut there comes tie real trouble — ^the heart pain — ^the
world pain. I tell you, my friend, it is not good for-you
to find you cannot make your dream come true, for the
reason that you not strong enough are, or not clever,
enough. Jal . . . And all the time you are such

\-

^

\..

214 LORD JIM

a fine feOow, too! Wief Waaf Gott in HimmeU
How can that be? Ha! ha! ha!'

'^The shadow prowling amongst the graves of butter-
flies laughed boisterously.
^ "*Yes! Very funny this terrible thing is. ' A man
that is bom falb int o a dream E ke a man who falls into
the sea. If he tries to dimb out into the air as in-
experienced people endeavour to do, he drowns — nichi
wahtf . . . No! I tell you! The way is to the
destructive element submit yourself, pnd ip^UlK
exertions of your hands and feet in the water make the
deep, deep sea keep you up. So if you ask me — how to
be?'

^^His voice leaped up extraordinarfly strong, as
though away there in the dusk he had been inspired
by some whisper of knowledge. 'I will tell you! For
that, too, there is only one way.'

'^With a hasty swish swish of his slippers he loomed
up in the ring of faint light, and suddenly appeared in
the bright circle of the lamp. His extended hand aimed
at my breast like a pistol; his deep-set eyes seemed to
pierce through me, but his twitching lips uttered no
word, and the austere exaltation of a certitude seen in
the dusk vanished from his face. The hand that had
been pointing at my breast fell, and by-and-by, coming
a step nearer, he laid it gently on my shoulder. There
were things, he said mournfully, that perhaps could
never be told, only he had lived so much alone that
sometimes he forgot — ^he forgot. The light had de-
stroyed the assurance which had inspired him in the
distant shadows. He sat down and, with both elbows
on the desk, rubbed his forehead. * And yet it is true —
it is true. In the destructive element immerse.' . . _^
He spoke in a subdued tone, without looking at me, one
hand on each side of his face. * That was the way. To

>^

J T

/ LORD JIM 215

./'"

J6II0W the dream, and again to follow the dream — ^and
/so — etoig — tisque ad finem. . . / The whisper of
his conviction seemed to open before me a vast and
imcertain expanse, as of a crepuscular horizon on a
"^ plain at dawn — or was it, perchance, at the coming of
the night? One had not the courage to decide; but it
was a charming and deceptive light, throwing the
impalpable poesy of its dimness over pitfalls — over
graves. His life had begun in sacrifice, hi enthusiasm
for generous ideas; he had trave]le3"very far, on various
ways, on strange paths, and whatever he followed it
had been without faltering, and therefore without
shame and without regret. In so far he was right.
That was the way, no doubt. Yet for all that the great
plain on which men wander amongst graves and pit-
falls remained very desolate under the impalpable poesy
of its crepuscular light, overshadowed in the centre,
circled with a bright edge as if siurounded by an abyss
full of flames. /When at last I broke the silence it was
-^ express the opinion that no one could be more ro-
mantic than himself.

''^^He shook his head slowly, and afterwaixls looked
at me with a patient and inquiring glance. It was a
shame, he said. There we were sitting and talking like
two boys, instead of putting our heads together to
find something practical — ^a practical remedy — ^for the
evil — ^for the great evil — ^he repeated, with a humorous
and indulgent smile. For all that, our talk did not grow
more practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name
as though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our
discussion, or he were nothing but an erring i^»rity-»
suffering and nameless shade. ^Na!' said Stein, rising.
^oHoight you sleep here, and in the morning we shall do
something practical — practical. . . .* He lit a two-
branched candlestick and led the way. We passed

y -

216 LORD JIM

through empty dark rooms, escorted by gleams from
the lights Stein carried. They glided along the waxed
floors, sweeping here and there over the polished surface
of the table, leaped upon a fragmentary curve of a piece
of furniture, or flashed perpendicularly in and out of
distant mirrors, while the forms of two men and the
flicker of two flames could be seen for a moment stealing
silently across the depths of a crystalline void. He
walked slowly a pace in advance with stooping courtesy;
there was a profoimd, as it were a listening, quietude on
his face; the long flaxen locks mixed with white threads
were scattered thinly upon his slightly bowed neck.

"*He is romantic — romantic,' he repeated. *And
that is very bad — very bad. . . . Very good, too,*
he added. 'But is hef* I queried.

'^'GewisSy he said, and stood still holding up the
candelabrum, but without looking at me. ^Evident!
What is it that by inward pain makes him know him-
self? What is it that for you and me makes him — exist? '

"At that moment it was difficult to beUeve in Jim's
existence — starting from a country parsonage, blurred
by crowds of men as by clouds of dust, silenced by the
clashing claims of life and death in a material world —
but his imperishable reality came to me with a con-
vincing, with an irresistible force! I saw it vividly, as
though in our progress through the lofty silent rooms
amongst fleeting gleams of light and the sudden revela-
tions of human figures stealing with ffickering flames
within unfathomable and pellucid depths, we had
approached nearer to absolute Truth, which, like
Beauty itself, floats elusive, obscure, half submerged, in
the silent still waters of mystery. 'Perhaps he is,' I
admitted with a slight laugh, whose imexpectedly loud
reverberation made me lower my voice directly; *but
I am sure you are.' With his head dropping on his

LORD JIM 217

breast and the light held high he began to walk again.
*Well — I exist, too/ he said.

" He preceded me. My eyes followed his movements,
but what I did see was not the head of the firm, the
welcome guest at afternoon receptions, the corres-
pondent of learned societies, the entertainer of stray
naturalists; I saw only the reality of his destiny, which
he had known how to follow with unfaltering footsteps,
that life begun m humble surroundings, rich m generous
enthusiasms, in friendship, love, war — ^in all the exalted
elements of romance. At the door of my room he faced
me. ^Yes,' I said, as though carrying on a discussion,
*and amongst other things you dreamed foolishly of ST
certain butterfly; but when one fine morning your
dream came in your way you did not let the splendid .•
opportunity escape. Did you? Whereas he . "T^.!^
Stein lifted his hand. *And do you know how many
opportunities I let escape; how many dreams I hs^^loat —
that had come in my way?' He shook his head re-
gretfully. *It seems to me that some would have been /
very fine — ^if I had made them come true. Do you know
how many? Perhaps I myself don't know.' * Whether
his were fine or not,' I said, * he knows of one which he
certainly did not catch.' * Everybody knows of one or
two like that,' said Stein; *and tJiat is the trouble — the
great trouble. . . .'

"He shook hands on the threshold, peered into my
room under his raised arm. * Sleep well. And to-
morrow we must do something practical — ^practi-
cai. ...

"Though his own room was beyond mine I saw him
return the way he came. He was going back to his
butterflies."

/

\Li y (<-<Lx/^v/ :: hc-^^^ (

u . '

CHAPTER TWENTY^NE

^ '^r^xJN'T suppose any of you had ever heard of
Patuaan?'' Mariow resumed, after a siloice oocufned
in the careful lighting of a cigar. ''It does not matter;
there's many a heavenly body in the lot crowding upon

us of a nidi t that . TnAnlgpfl \^sul n^jrpr ht^f ^ nl, ft being

outside the sphere of its activibes and of no earthly
importance to anybody but to the astronomers who are
paid to talk learnedly about its oomixnition, wei^t,
path — ^the irr^ularities of its conduct, the aberraticms
of its light — a sort of scientific scandal-mongering.
Thus with Patiyail* It was referred to knowingly in
the inner government circles in Batavia, espedaDy as to
its irregularities and aberrations, and it was known by
name to some few, very few, in the mercantile world.
Nobody, however, had been there, and I suspect no one
desired to go there in person, just as an astronomer, I
should fancy, would strongly object to being trans-
ported into a distant heavenly body, where, parted
from his earthly emoluments, he would be bewildered
by the view of an unfamiliar heavens. However,
neither heavenly bodies nor astronomers have anything
to do with Patusan. It was Jim who went there. I
only meant you to imderstand that had Stein arranged
to send him into a star of the fifth magnitude the change
could not have been greater. He left his earthly failings
behind him and that sort of reputation he had, and there
was a totally new set of conditions for his imaginative
faculty to work upon. Entirely new, entirely remark-
able. And he got hold of them in a remarkable way.

218

LORD JIM 219

''Stein was the man who knew more about Fatusan
than anybody else. More than was known in the
government circles I suspect. I have no doubt he had
been there, either in his butterfly-hunting days or later
on, when he tried in his incorrigible way to season with a
pinch of romance the fattening dishes of his commercial
kitchen. There were very few places in the Archipelago
he had not seen in the original dusk of their being, before
Ught (and even electric light) had been carried into them
for the sake of better morality and — and — ^well — the
greater profit, too. It was at breakfast of the morning
following our talk about Jim that he mentioned the
place, after I had quoted poor Brierly's remark: *Let
him creep twenty feet underground and stay there.*
He looked up at me with interested attention, as though
I had been a rare insect. 'This could be done, too,' he
remarked, sipping his coffee. 'Bury him in some sort,'
I explained. 'One doesn't like to do it of course, but
it would be the best thing, seeing what he is.* 'Yes; he ;
is yoimg,* Stein mused. 'The vonnpest human hMng",^^
jiow in existence^M affirmed. ^Sclion. There's Patusan,'
ne went on m the same tone. . . . And the woman
is dead now,' he added incomprehensibly.

"Of course I don't know that story; I can only guess
that once before Fatusan had been used as a grave
for some sin, transgression, or misfortune. It is im-
possible to suspect Stein. The only woman that had
ever existed for him was the Malay girl he called 'My
wife the princess,' or, more rarely in moments of
expansion, 'the mother of my Emma.' Who was the
woman he had mentioned in connection with Fatusan
I can't say; but from his allusions I understand she had
been an educated and very good-looking Dutch-Malay
girl, with a tragic or perhaps only a pitiful history,
whose most painful part no doubt was her marriage with

220 LORD JIM

a Malacca Portuguese who had been clerk in some
commercial house in the Dutch colonies. I gathered
from Stein that this man was an unsatisfactory person
in more ways than one, all being more or less indefinite
and offensive. It was solely for his wife's sake that
Stein had appomted him manager of Stein & Co.'s
trading post in Fatusan; but commercially the arrange-
ment was not a success, at any rate for the firm, and now
the woman had died, Stein was disposed to try another
agent there. The Portuguese, whose name was Cot-
nelius, considered himself a very deserving but ill-used
person, entitled by his abilities to a better position.
This man Jim would have to relieve. *But I don't
think he will go away from the place,' remarked Stein.
*That has nothing to do with me. It was only for the
sake of the woman that I . . . But as I think there
is a daughter left, I shall let him, if he likes to stay, keep
the old house.'

"Patusan is a remote district of a native-ruled State,
and the chief settlement bears the same name. At a
point on the river about forty miles from the sea, where
the first houses come into view, there can be seen
rising above the level of the forests the summits of two
steep hills very close together, and separated by what
looks like a deep fissure, the cleavage of some mighty
stroke. As a matter of fact, the valley between is
nothing but a narrow ravine; the appearance from the
settlement is of one irregularly conical hill split in two,
and with the two halves leaning slightly apart. On the
third day after the full, the moon, as seen from the open
space in front of Jim's house (he had a very fine house
in the native style when I visited him), rose exactly
behind these hills, its diffused light at first throwing the
two masses into intensely black relief, and then the
nearly perfect disc, glowing ruddily, appeared, gliding

LORD JIM m

upwards between the sides of the chasm, till it jBoated
away above the summits, as if escaping from a yawning
grave in gentle triumph. * Wonderful eflFect/ said Jim
by my side. * Worth seeing. Is it not?*

^^And this question was put with a note of personal
pride that made me smile, as though he had had a hand
in regulating that unique spectacle. He had regulated
so many things in Fatusan! Things that would have
appeared as much beyond his control as the motions of
the moon and the stars.

"It was inconceivable. That was the distinctive
quality of the part into which Stein and I had tumbled
him unwittingly, with no other notion than to get him
out of the way; out of his own way, be it understood.
That was our main purpose, though, I own, I might
have had another motive which had influenced me a
little. I was about to go home for a time; and it may be
I desired, more than I was aware of myself, to dispose of
him — to dispose of him, you imderstand — ^before I left.
I was going home, and he had come to me from there,
with his miserable trouble and his shadowy claim,
like a man panting under a burden in a mist. I cannot
say I had ever seen him distinctly — ^not even to this day,
after I had my last view of him ; but it seemed to me that
the less I understood the more I was bound to him in the

^ ji^me oTthat^ubt which is the insepaTahle pfl.rt. nl.Qiir

' kno wledge* I did not know so much more about my-
self. And then, I repeat, I was going home — ^to that
home distant enough for all its hearthstones to be like
one hearthstone, by which the humblest of us has the
right to sit. We wander in our thousands over the face
of the earth, the illustrious and the obscure, earning
beyond the seas our fame, our money, or only a crust of
bread ; but it seems to me that for each of us going home
must be like going to render an account. We return to

- ___ >

222 LORD JIM

face our superiors, our kindred, our friends — those
whom we obey, and those whom we love, but even they
who have neither, the most free, lonely, irresponsible
and bereft of ties, — even those for whom home holds no
dear face, no familiar voice, — even they have to meet
the spirit that dwells withm the land, under its sky, in
its air, in its valleys, and on its rises, in its fields, in its
waters and its trees — a mute friend, judge, and inspirer.
Say what you like, to get its joy, to breathe its peace,
to face its truth, one must return with a clear conscious-
ness. All this may seem to you sheer sentimentalism;
and indeed very few of us have the will or the capacity
to look consciously under the surface of familiar
emotions. There are the girls we love, the men we look
up to, the tenderness, the friendships, the opportunities,
the pleasures! But the fact remains that you must
touch yoiu* reward with clean hands, lest it turn to dead
leaves, to thorns, in your grasp. I think it is the lonely,
without a fireside or an affection they may call their
own, those who return not to a dwelling but to the land
itself, to meet its disembodied, eternal, and unchange-
able spirit — it is those who understand best its severity,
its saving power, the grace of its secular right to our
fidelity, to our obedience. Yes! few of us understand,
but we all feel it though, and I say all without exception,
because those who do not feel do not count. Each
blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its
life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from
which he draws his faith together with his life. I don't
know how much Jim understood; but I know he felt, he
felt confusedly but powerfully, the demand of some
such truth or some such illusion — ^I don't care how you
call it, there is so little difference, and the difference
means so little. The thing is that in virtue of his feel-
ing he mattered. He would never go home now. Not

LORD JIM 223

he. Never. Had he been capable of picturesque
manifestations he would have shuddered at the thought
and made you shudder, too. But he was not of that
sort, though he was expressive enough in his way.
Before the idea of going home he would grow desperately
stiff and immovable, with lowered chin and pouted Ups,
and with those candid blue eyes of his glowering darkly
under a frown, as if before something unbearable, as it
before something revolting. There was imagination in
that hard skull of his, over which the thick clustering
hair fitted like a cap. As to me, I have no imagination
(I would be more certain about him to-day, if I had),
and I do not mean to imply that I figured to myself the
spirit of the land uprising above the white cliffs of
Dover, to ask me what I — ^returning with no bones
broken, so to speak — ^had done with my very young
brother. I could not make such a mistake. I knew
very well he was of those about whom there is no
inquiry; I had seen better men go out, disappear, vanish
utterly, without provoking a sound of curiosity or
sorrow. The spirit of the land, as becomes the ruler of
great enterprises, is careless of innumerable lives. Woe .
to the stragglers ! We exist only in so far as we hang ^
together. He had straggled in a way; he had not hung
on; but he was aware of it with an intensity that made
him touching, just as a man's more intense life makes his
death more touching than the death of a tree. I
happened to be handy, and I happened to be touched.
That's all there is to it. I was concerned as to the way
he would go out. It would have hml me if, for instance,
he had taken to drink. The earth is so small that I was
afraid of, some day, being waylaid by a blear-eyed,
swollen-faced, besmirched loafer, with no soles to his
canvas shoes, and with a flutter of rags about the elbows,
who, on the strength of old acquaintance, would ask for

224 LORD JIM

a loan of five dollars. You know the awful jaunty bear-
ing of these scarecrows coming to you from a decent
past, the rasping careless voice, the half-averted im-
pudent glances— those meetings more trying to a man
who believes in the solidarity of our lives than the sight
of an impenitent deathbed to a priest. That, to tell
you the truth, was the only danger I could see for him
and for me; but I also mistrusted my want of imagi-
nation. It might even come to something worse, in
some way it was beyond my powers of fancy to foresee.
He wouldn't let me forget how imaginative he was, and
your imaginative people swmg farther in any direction,
as if given a longer scope of cable in the uneasy anchor-
age of life. They do. They take to drink, too. It may
be I was belittling him by such a fear. How could I
/ tell? Even Stein could say no more than that he was
romantic. I onTy knew he was one of us. And what
business had he to be romantic? I am telling you so
much about my own instinctive feelings and bemused
reflections because there remains so Kttle to be told of
him. He existed 'for me, and after all it is only through
me that he exists for you. I Ve led him out by the hand ;
I have paraded him before you. Were my common-
place fears unjust? I won't say — ^not even now. You
may be able to tell better, since the proverb has it that
the onlookers see most of the game. At any rate, they
were superfluous. He did not go out, not at all; on the
contrary, he came on wonderfully, came on straight as
a die and in excellent form, which showed that he could
stay as well as spurt. I ought to be delighted, for it is
a victory in which I had taken my part; but I am not so
pleased as I would have expected to be. I ask myself
whether his rush had really carried him out of that mist
in which he loomed interesting if not very big, with
floating outlines — a straggler yearning inconsolably for

LORD JIM 225

his humble place in the ranks. And besides, the last
word is not said, — ^probably shall never be said. Are
not our lives too short for that full utterance which
through all our stammerings is of course our only and
abiding intention? I have given up expecting those
last words, whose ring, if they could only be pronounced,
would shake both heaven and earth. There is never
time to say our last word — ^the last word of our love, of
our desire, faith, remorse, submission, revolt. The
heaven and the earth must not be shaken. I suppose —
at least, not by us who know so many truths about
either. My last words about Jim shall be few. I
affirm he had achieved greatness; but the thing would
be dwarfed in the telling, or rather in the hearing.
Frankly, it is not my words that I mistrust but youir*"^
minds. I coidd be eloquent were I not afraid you
fellows had starved your imaginations to feed your
bodies. I do not mean to be oflFensive; it is respectable
to have no illusions — and safe — and profitable — and
dull. Yet you, too, in your time must have known the
intensity of life, that light of glamour created in the
shock of trifles, as amazing as the glow of sparks struck
from a cold stone — and as short-lived, alas!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

./

\

"The conquest of love, honour, men's confidence — \
the pride of it, the power of it, are fit materials for a y^J
heroic tale; only our minds are struck by the externals of
such a success, and to Jim's lunrrinci thrrr ww no — -
(Externals* Thirty nmST of forest shut it off from the
sight of an indifferent world, and the noise of the white
surf along the coast overpowered the voice of fame.
The stream of civilisation, as if divided on a headland
a hundred miles north of Fatusan, branches east and
south-east, leaving its plains and valleys, its old trees
and its old mankind, neglected and isolated, such as an
insignificant and crumbling islet between the two
branches of a mighty, devouring stream. You find
the name of the country pretty often in collections of
old voyages. The seventeenth-century traders went
there for pepper, because the passion for pepper seemed
to bum like a flame of love in the breast of Dutch and
English adventurers about the time of James the First.
Where wouldn't they go for pepper! For a bag of
pepper they would cut each other's throats without
hesitation, and would forswear their souls, of which
they were so careful otherwise: the bizarre obstinacy
of that desire made them defy death in a thousand
shapes; the unknown seas, the loathsome and strange
diseases; wounds, captivity, hunger, pestilence, and
despair. It made them great! By heavens! it made
them heroic; and it made them pathetic, too, in their
craving for trade with the inflexible death levying its
toll on young and old. It seems impossible to believe

LORD JIM 227

that mere greed could hold men to such a steadfastness
of purpose, to such a blind persistence in endeavour and
sacrifice. And indeed those who adventured their
persons and lives risked all they had for a slender re-
ward. They left their bones to lie bleaching on dis-
tant shores, so that wealth might flow to the living at
home. To us, their less tried successors, they appear
magnified, not as agents of trade but as instruments of a
recorded destiny, pushing out into the unknown in
obedience to an inward voice, to an impulse beating in
the blood, to a dream of the future. They were wonder-
ful; and it must be owned they were ready for the
wonderful. They recorded it complacently in their
sufferings, in the aspect of the seas, in the customs of
strange nations, in the glory of splendid rulers.

**In Fatusan they had found lots of pepper, and had
been impressed by the magnificence and the wisdom of
the Sultan; but somehow, after a century of checkered
intercourse, the coimtry seems to drop gradually out of
the trade. Perhaps the pepper had given out. Be it
as it may, nobody cares for it now; the glory has de-
parted, the Sultan is an imbecile youth with two thumbs
on his left hand and an uncertain and beggarly revenue
extorted from a miserable population and stolen from
him by his many uncles.

"This of course I have from Stein. He gave me
their names and a short sketch of the life and character
of each. He was as full of information about native
States as an official report, but infinitely more amus-
ing. He had to know. He traded in so many, and in
some districts — ^as in Fatusan, for instance — ^his firm
was the only one to have an agency by special permit
from the Dutch authorities. The Government trusted
his discretion, and it was understood that he took all the
risks. The men he employed understood that, too, but

I

228 LORD JIM

he made it worth their while apparently. He was
perfectly frank with me over the breakfast-table in the
morning. As far as he was aware (the last news was
thirteen months old, he stated precisely), utter in-
security for life and property was the normal condition.
There were in Pa tmaaH ..antagonistic forces, and one of
them wa^^RajaEh Al lang^ jfle worst of the Sultan's uncles,
the governor of the nver, who did the extorting and the
stealing, and ground down to the point of extinction the
country-bom Malays, who, utterly defenceless, had not
even the resource of emigrating, — *for indeed,* as Stein
remarked, * where could they go, and how could they
get away?* No doubt they did not even desire to get
away. The world (which is circumscribed by lofty
impassable mountains) has been given into the hand of
the high-bom, and this Rajah they knew: he was of
their own royal house. I had the pleasure of meeting
the gentleman later on. He was a dirty, Uttle, used-up
old man with evil eyes and a weak mouth, who swal-
lowed an opium pill every two hours, and in defiance of
common decency wore his hair uncovered and falling
in wild stringy locks about his wizened grimy face.
When giving audience he would clamber upon a sort of
narrow stage erected in a hall like a ruinous bam with a
rotten bamboo floor, through the cracks of which you
could see twelve or fifteen feet below the heaps of refuse
and garbage of all kinds lying under the house. That
is where and how he received us when, accompanied by
Jim, I paid him a visit of ceremony. There were about
forty people in the room, and perhaps three times as
many in the great courtyard below. There was con-
stant movement, coming and going, pushing and mur-
muring, at our backs. A few youths in gay silks glared
from the distance; the majority, slaves and humble
dependants, were half naked, in ragged sarongs, dirty

LORD JIM 229

with ashes and mud-stains. I had never seen Jim look
so grave, so self-possessed, in an impenetrable, im-
pressive way. In the midst of these dark-faced men,
his stalwart figure in white apparel, the gleaming clus-
ters of his fair hair, seemed to catch all the sunshine that
trickled through the cracks in the closed shutters of
that dim hall, with its walls of mats and a roof of thatch.
He appeared like a creature not only of another kind
but of another essence. Had they not seen him come
up in a canoe they might have thought he had descended
upon them from the clouds. He did, however, come in
a crazy dug-out, sitting (very still and with his knees
together, for fear of overturning the thing) — sitting on
a tin box — ^which I had lent him — ^nursing on his lap a
revolver of the Navy pattern — ^presented by me on
parting — which, through an interposition of Providence,
or through some wrong-headed notion, that was just
like him, or else from sheer instinctive sagacity, he had
decided to carry imloaded. That's how he ascended the
Fatusan river. Nothing could have been more prosaic
and more unsafe, more extravagantly casual, more
lonely. Strange, this fatality that would cast the
complexion of a flight upon all his acts, of impulsive un-
reflecting desertion — of m jump into the unknowne^!^^*-^,

"It is precisely the casuahiess of it thai strikes me
most. Neither Stein nor I had a clear conception of
what might be on the other side when we, metaphori-
cally speaking, took him up and hove him over the wall
with scant ceremony. At the moment I merely wished
to achieve his disappearance. Stein characteristically
enough had a sentimental motive. He had a notion of
paying oflF (in kind, I suppose) the old debt he had never
forgotten. Indeed he had been all his life especially
friendly to anybody from the British Isles. His late
benefactor, it is true, was a Scot — even to the length of

9S0 LORD JIM

,,-• ' ■'

being caUecf" Alexander M'NeitV-and Jim came from a

long way soutirof the Tweed; but at the distance of six
or seven thousand miles Great Britain, though never
diminished, looks foreshortened enough even to its
own children to rob such details of their importance.
Stein was excusable, and his hinted intentions were so
generous that I begged him most earnestly to keep them
secret for a time. I felt that no consideration of per-
sonal advantage should be allowed to influence Jim;
that not even the risk of such influence should be run.
We had to deal with another sort of reality. He wanted
a refuge, and a refuge at the cost of danger should be
offered him — ^nothing more.

"Upon every other point I was perfectly frank with
him, and I even (as I believed at the time) exaggerated
the danger of the undertaking. As a matter of fact I
did not do it justice; his first day in Fatusan was nearly
his last — ^would have been his last if he had not been so
reckless or so hard on himself and had condescended to
load that revolver. I remember, as I unfolded our
precious scheme for his retreat, how his stubborn but
weary resignation was graduaUy replaced by surprise,
interest, wonder, and by boyish eagerness. This was
a chance he had been dreaming of. He couldn't think
how he merited that I • • . He would be shot if he
could see to what he owed • . • And it was Stein
Stein the merchant, who . . . but of course it was
me he had to ... I cut him short. He was not
articulate, and his gratitude caused me inexplicable
pain. I told him that if he owed this chance to any one
especially, it was to an old Scot of whom he had never
heard, who had died many years ago, of whom little was
remembered besides a roaring voice and a rough sort of
honesty. There was really no one to receive his thanks.
Stein was passing on to a young man the help he had

LORD JIM 2S1

received in his own young days, and I had done no more
than to mention his name. Upon this he coloured, and,
twisting a bit of paper in his fingers, he remarked bash-
fully that I had always trusted him.

'*I admitted that such was the case, and added after a
pause that I wished he had been able to follow my
example. 'You think I don't?' he asked uneasily, and
remarked in a mutter that one had to get some sort of
show first; then brightening up, and in a loud voice he
protested he would give me no occasion to regret my
confidence, which — ^which . . .

" *Do not misapprehend,' I interrupted. *It is not in
your power to make me regret anything.' There would
be no regrets; but if there were, it would be altogether
my own affair: on the other hand, I wished him to
understand clearly that this arrangement, this — ^this —
experiment, was his own doing; he was responsible for
it and no one else. *Why? Why,' he stammered,
Hhis is the very thing that I . . / I begged him
not to be dense, and he looked more puzzled than ever.
He was in a fair way to make life intolerable to him-
self. . . . *Do you think so?' he asked, disturbed;
but in a moment added confidently, 'I was going on
though. Was I not?' It was impossible to be angry
with him: I could not help a smile, and told him that
in the old days people who went on like this were on the
way of becommg hermits in a wilderness. 'Hermits
be hanged!' he commented with engaging unpulsive-
ness. Of course he didn't mind a wilderness. . . .
*I was glad of it,' I said. That was where he would be
going to. He would find it lively enough, I ventured to
promise. * Yes, yes,' he said, keenly. He had shown a
desire, I continued inflexibly, to go out and shut the
door after him. . . . 'Did I?' he interrupted in a
strange access of gloom that seemed to envelop him

232 LORD JIM

from head to foot like the shadow of a passing cloud.
He was wonderfully expressive after all. Wonderfully !
*Did I?* he repeated, bitterly. *You can't say I made
much noise about it. And I can keep it up, too — only,
confound it! you show me a door.* • . . *Very
well. Pass on,' I struck in. I could make him a
solemn promise that it would be shut behind him with a
vengeance. His fate, whatever it was, would be ignored,
because the country, for all its rotten state, was not
judged ripe for interference. Once he got in, it would
be for the outside world as though he had never existed.
He would have nothing but the soles of his two feet to
stand upon, and he would have first to find his ground at
that. * Never existed — ^that's it, by Jove!* he mur-
mured to himself. His eyes, fastened upon my lips,
sparkled. If he had thoroughly understood the con-
ditions, I concluded, he had better jump into the first
gharry he could see and drive on to Stein's house for
his final instructions. He flung out of the room be-
fore I had fairly finished speaking."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

**He did not return till next morning. He had been
kept to dinner and for the night. There never had
been such a wonderful man as Mr. Stein. He had in
his pocket a letter for Cornelius (*the Johnnie who's
going to get the sack/ he explained with a momentary
drop in his elation), and he exhibited with glee a silver
ring, such as natives use, worn down very thin and
showing faint traces of chasing.

^^This was his introduction to an old chap called
Doramin — one of the principal men out there — a big
pot — who have been Mr. Stein's friend in that country
where he had all these adventures. Mr. Stein called
him * war-comrade.* War-comrade was good. Wasn't
it? And didn't Mr. Stein speak English wonderfully
well? Said he had learned it in Celebes — of all places!
That was awfully funny. Was it not? He did speak
with an accent — a twang — did I notice? That chap
Doramin had given him the ring. They had exchanged
presents when they parted for the last time. Sort of
promising eternal friendship. He called it fine — did I
not? They had to make a dash for dear life out of
the country when that Mohammed — ^Mohammed —
What's-his-name had been killed. I knew the story,
of course. Seemed a beastly shame, didn't it? . . .

^'He ran on like this, forgetting his plate, with a knife
and fork in hand (he had found me at tiffin), slightly
flushed, and with his eyes darkened many shades, which
was with him a sign of excitement. The ring was a
sort of credential — (*It's like something you read of in

k

«S4 LORD JIM _ ^..««w

books/ he threw in appreciativelyX^d Dorsq^Utri^uId
do his best for him. Mr. Stein hifcd«been tibe means of
saving that chap's life on some occasion; purely by
accident, Mr. Stein had said, but he — ^Jim — had his
own opinion about that. Mr. Stein was just the man
to look out for such accidents. No matter. Accident
or purpose, this would serve his turn immensely.
Hoped to goodness the jolly old b^gar had not gone off
the hooks meantime. Mr. Stein could not tell. There
had been no news for more than a year; they were kick-
ing up no end of an all-fired row amongst themselves,
and the river was closed. Jolly awkward, this; but, no
fear; he would manage to find a crack to get in.

^'He impressed, almost frightened, me with his elated
rattle. He was voluble like a youngster on the eve of a
long holiday with a prospect of delightful scrapes, and
such an attitude of mind in a grown man and in this
connection had in it something phenomenal, a little
mad, dangerous, unsafe. I was on the point of en-
treating him to take things seriously when he dropped
his knife and fork (he had begun eating, or rather
swallowing food, as it were, unconsciously), and began a
search all roimd his plate. The ring! The ring!
Where the devil . . . Ah! Here it was. . . .
He closed his big hand on it, and tried all his pockets one
after another. Jove ! wouldn't do to lose the thing. He
meditated gravely over his fist. Had it? Would
hang the bally affair round his neck ! And he proceeded
to do this immediately, producing a string (which looked
like a bit of a cotton shoe-lace) for the purpose. There !
That would do the trick! It would be the deuce
if . . . He seemed to catch sight of my face for the
first time, and it steadied him a little. I probably
didn't realize, he said with a naive gravity, how much
importance he attached to that token. It meant a

LORD JIM 235

friend ; and it is a good thing to have a friend. He knew
something about that. He nodded at me expressively,
but before my disclaiming gesture he leaned his head
on his hand and for a while sat silent, playing thought-
fully with the bread-crumbs on the cloth. • • •
^Slam the door — ^that was jolly well put/ he cried, and
jumping up, b^an to pace the room, reminding me by
the set of the shoulders, the turn of his head, the head-
long and uneven stride, of that night when he had
paced thus, confessing, explaining — ^what you will —
but, in the last instance, living — ^living before me, under
his own little cloud, with all his unconscious subtlety
which could draw consolation from the very source of
sorrow. It was the same mood, the same and different,
like a fickle companion that to-day guiding you on the
true path, with the same eyes, the same step, the same
impulse, to-morrow will lead you hopelessly astray.
His tread was assured, his straying, darkened eyes
seemed to search the room for something. One of his
footfalls somehow sounded louder than the other — the
fault of his boots probably — ^and gave a curious im-
pression of an invisible halt in his gait. One of his
hands was rammed deep into his trousers-pocket, the
other waved suddenly above his head. ^Slam the
door!* he shouted. *IVe been waiting for that. I'll
show yet • • • I'll • • • I'm ready for any
confounded thing. . . • I've been dreaming of
it . . • Jove! Get out of this. Jove! This is
luck at last. . . . You wait. I'll . . /

^'He tossed his head fearlessly, and I confess that
for the first and last time in our acquaintance I per-
ceived myself unexpectedly to be thoroughly sick
of him. Why these vapourings? He was stumping
about the room flourishing his arm absurdly, and now
and then feeling on his breast for the ring under his

286 LORD JIM

clothes. Wh«^ was the sense of such exaltation in a
man appointed to be a trading-derk, and in a place
where there was no trade — at that? Why hurl de-
fiance at the universe? This was not a proper frame of
mind to approach any undertaking; an improper frame
of mind not only for him, I said, but for any man. He
stood stiU over me. Did I think so? he asked, by no
means subdued, and with a smile in which I seemed to
detect suddenly something Jiigplent. But then I am
tw^ty years his aenior. /Youth is insolent; it is its
right — ^its necessity; irhas got to assert itself, and all
assertion in this world of doubts is a defiance, is an
insolence. He went off into a far comer, and coming
back, he, figuratively speaking, turned to rend me. I
spoke like that because I — even I, who had been no end
kind to him — even I remembered — ^remembered —
against him — ^what — ^what had happened. And what
about others — ^the — ^the — world? Where's the wonder
he wanted to get out, meant to get out, meant to stay
out — ^by heavens! And I talked about proper frames
of mind!

"*It is not I or the world who remember,' I shouted.
*It is you — ^you, who remember/

"He did not flinch, and went on with heat, * Forget
everything, everybody, everybody.' . . . His voice
fell. . . . *But you,' he added.

"*Yes — me, too — if it would help,' I said, also in a
low tone. After this we remained silent and languid
for a time as if exhausted. Then he began again, com-
posedly, and told me that Mr. Stein had instructed him
to wait for a month or so, to see whether it was possible
for him to remain, before he began building a new house
for himself, so as to avoid * vain expense.' He did make
use of funny expressions — Stein did. *Vain expense'
was good. . . . Remain? Why! of course. He

LORD JIM 237

would hang on. Let him only get in — ^that's all; he
would answer for it he would remain. Never get out.
It was easy enough to remain.

"* Don't be foolhardy/ I said, rendered uneasy by his
threatening tone. *If you only live long enough you
will want to come back.'

" * Come back to what? ' he asked, absently, with his
eyes fixed upon the face of a dock on the wall.

"I was silent for a while. *Is it to be never, then?'
I said. * Never,' he repeated, dreamily, without look-
ing at me, and then flew into sudden activity. * Jove I
Two o'clock, and I sail at four!'

"It was true. A brigantine of Stein's was leaving for
the westward that afternoon, and he had been in-
structed to take his passage in her, only no orders to
delay the sailing had been given. I suppose Stein for-
got. He made a rush to get his things while I went
aboard my ship, where he promised to call on his way to
the outer roadster. He turned up accordingly in a great
hurry and with a small leather vaUse in his hand. This
wouldn't do, and I offered him an old tin trunk of mine
supposed to be water-tight, or at least damp-tight. He
effected the transfer by the simple process of shooting
out the contents of his valise as you would empty a sack
of wheat. I saw three books in the tumble; two small,
in dark covers, and a thick green-and-gold volume — ^a
half-crown complete Shakespeare. *You read this?'
I asked. *Yes. Best thing to cheer up a fell ow,' he
said, hastily. I was struck by tJiis appreciation, but
there was no time for Shakespearian talk. A heavy
revolver and two small boxes of cartridges were lying
on the cuddy-table. 'Pray take this,' I said. *It may
help you to remain.' No sooner were these words out
of my mouth than I perceived what grim meaning they
could bear. *May help you to get in,' I corrected my-

238 LORD JIM

self, remorsefully. He, however, was not troubled by
obscure meanings; he thanked me effusively and bolted
out, calling Grood-bye over his shoulder. I heard his
voice through the ship's side urging his boatmen to
give way, and looking out of the stem-port I saw the
boat rounding under the counter. He sat in her leaning
forward, exciting his men with voice and gestures; and
as he had kept the revolver in his hand and seemed to be
presenting it at their heads, I shall never forget the
scared faces of the four Javanese, and the frantic swing
of their stroke which snatched that vision from under
my eyes. Then turning away, the first thing I saw
were the two boxes of cartridges on the cuddy-table.
He had forgotten to take them.

^^I ordered my gig manned at once; but Jim's rowers,
under the impression that their lives himg on a thread
while they had that madman in the boat, made such
excellent time that before I had traversed half the dis-
tance between the two vessels I caught sight of him
clambering over the rail, and of his box being passed up.
All the brigantine's canvas was loose, her mainsail was
set, and the windlass was just beginning to clink as I
stepped upon her deck: her master, a dapper little half-
caste of forty or so, in a blue flannel suit, with lively
eyes, his round face the coloiu* of lemon-peel, and with a
thin little black moustache drooping on each side of his
thick, dark lips, came forward smirking. He turned
out, notwithstanding his self-satisfied and cheery
exterior, to be of a careworn temperament. In answer
to a remark of mine (while Jim had gone below for a
moment) he said, *0h, yes. Patusan.' He was going
to carry the gentleman to the mouth of the river, but
would ^ never ascend.' His flowing English seemed to
^be derived from a dictionary compiled by a lunatic.
Had Mr. Stein desired him to * ascend,' he would have

LORD JIM 239

* reverentially' — (I think he wanted to say respect-
fully — ^but devil only knows) — * reverentially made
objects for the safety of properties/ If disregarded, he
would have presented * resignation to quit/ Twelve
months ago he had made his last voyage there, and
though Mr. Cornelius * propitiated many oiflfertories*
to Mr. Rajah Allang and the ^principal populations/
on conditions which made the trade ^a snare and ashes
in the mouth,' yet his ship had been fired upon from the
woods by * irresponsive parties* all the way down the
river; which causing his crew ^from exposure to limb to
remain silent in hidings/ the brigantine was nearly
stranded on a sandbank at the bar, where she 'would
have been perishable beyond the act of man.' The
angry disgust at the recollection, the pride of his fluency,
to which he turned an attentive ear, struggled for the
possession of his broad simple face. He scowled and
beamed at me, and watched with satisfaction the un-
deniable effect of his phraseology. Dark frowns ran
swiftly over the placid sea, and the brigantine, with her
fore-topsail to the mast and her main-boom amidships,
seemed bewildered amongst the cat's-paws. He told
me further, gnashing his teeth, that the Rajah was a
'laughable hyaena' (can't imagine how he got hold of
hyaenas); while somebody else was many times falser
than the 'weapons of a crocodile.' Keeping one eye on V

the movements of his crew forward, he let loose hisy^^
volubility — comparing the place to a 'cage of beasts\ ^^^
made ravenous by long impenitence.' I fancy he) ^
meant impunity. He had no intention, he cried, to
'exhibit himself to be made attached purposefully to
robbery.' The long-drawn wails, giving the time for
the pull of the men catting the anchor, came to an end,
and he lowered his voice. 'Plenty too much enough of
Patusan,' he concluded, with energy.

240 LORD JIM

^^I heard afterwards he had been so indiscreet as to
get himself tied up by the neck with a rattan halter to a
post planted in the middle of a mud-hole before the
Rajah's house. He spent the best part of a day and a
whole night in that unwholesome situation^ but there
is every reason to believe the thing had been meant
as a sort of joke. He brooded for a while over that
horrid memory, I suppose, and then addressed in a
quarrelsome tone the man coming aft to the helm.
When he turned to me again it was to speak judicially,
without passion. He would take the gentleman to the
mouth of the river at Batu Kring (Fatusan town 'being
situated internally/ he remarked, 'thirty miles')- But
in his eyes, he continued — ^a tone of bored, weary con-
tion replacing his previous voluble delivery — the

entleman was already 'in fhpt jjf|pii1i tude

at? What do you say?' I asked. He assumed* a
lingly ferocious demeanour, and imitated to per-
fection the act of stabbing from behind. 'AJffigdy like
theTSody of one jS^ortgd)' he explained, with tT

i

s ufferSEIy cbrJC^ited air of hi s ki nd aiter j£hat tbey
imagine a display of clev erness. BeEinHhim I per-
ceived Jim smiling silently at me, and with a raised hand
checking the exclamation on my lips.

"Then, while the half-caste, bursting with impor-
tance, shouted his orders, while the yards swung creak-
ing and the heavy boom came surging over, Jim and I,
alone as it were, to leeward of the mainsail, clasped each
other's hands and exchanged the last hurried words.
My heart was freed from that dull resentment which
had existed side by side with interest in his fate. The
absurd chatter of the half-caste had given more reality
to the miserable dangers of his path than Stein's care-
ful statements. On that occasion the sort of formality
that had been always present in our intercoiuse van-

LORD JIM 241

ished from our speech; I believe I called higj *deax boy,'
and he tacked on the».woFd(»--^-^d-man' to some half-
uttered expression of gratitude, as though his risk set off
against my years had made us more equal in age and in
feeling. There was a moment of real and profound
intimacy, unexpected and short-lived like a glimpse of
some everlasting, of some saving truths He exerted
himself to soothe me as though he had been the more
mature of the two. * All right, all right,' he said, rapidly,
and with feeling. *I promise to take care of myself.
Yes ; I won't take any risks. Not a single blessed risk.
Of course not. I mean to hang out. Don't you worry.
Jove ! I feel as if nothing could touch me. Why ! this is
luck from the word Go. I wouldn't spoil such a mag-
nificent chance ! ' . . . A magnificent chance! Well, it
was magnificent, but chances are what men make them,
and how was I to know? As he had said, even I — even
I remembered— his— his misfortunes against him. It
was true. And the best thing for him was to go.

"My gig had dropped in the wake of the brigantine,
and I saw him aft detached upon the light of the wester-
ing sun, raising his cap high above his head. I heard
an indistinct shout, *You — shall — ^hear — of — ^me.' Of
me, or from me, I don't know which. I think it must
have been of me. My eyes were too dazzled by the v\
glitter of the sea below his feet to see him clearly; I am J ,
fated never to see hi]iixlea£ly4.i)ut I can assure you no ^ '
man could have appeared less 'in the similitude of a
corpse,' as that half-caste croaker had put it. I could
see the Httle wretch's face, the shape and colour of a ripe
pumpkin, poked out somewhere under Jim's elbow. He,
too, raised his arm as if for a downward thrust. Ahsii
omenl^^

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

^^The coast of Patusan (I saw it nearly two years
afterwards) is straight and sombre, and faces a misty
ocean. Red trails are seen like cataracts of rust stream-
ing under the dark-green foliage of bushes and creepers
clothing the low cliffs. Swampy plains open out at the
mouth of rivers, with a view of jagged blue peaks beyond
the vast forests. In the offing a chain of islands,
dark, crumbling shapes, stand out in the everlast-
ing sunlit haze like the remnants of a wall breached
by the sea.

^^There is a village of fisher-folk at the mouth of the
Batu Kring branch of the estuary. The river, which
had been closed so long, was open then, and Stein's
little schooner, in which I had my passage, worked her
way up in three tides without being exposed to a
fusillade from * irresponsive parties.' Such a state of
affairs belonged already to ancient history, if I could
believe the elderly headman of the fishing village, who
came on board to act as a sort of pilot. He talked to
me (the second white man he had ever seen) with con-
fidence, and most of his talk was about the first white
man he had ever seen. He called him Tuan Jim, and
the tone of his references was made remarkable by a
strange mixture of familiarity and awe. They, in the
village, were under that lord's special protection, which
showed that Jim bore no grudge. If he had warned me
that I would hear of him it was- perfectly true. I was
hearing of him. There was already a story that the tide
had turned two hours before its time to help him on his

24£

LORD JIM 24S

journey up the river. The talkative old man himself
had steered the canoe and had marvelled at the phe~
nomenon. Moreover^ all the glory was in his family.
His son and his son-in-law had paddled; but they were
only youths without experience, who did not notice the
speed of the canoe till he pointed out to them the
amazing fact.

"" Jim's coming to that fishing village was a blessing;
but to them, as to many of us, the blessing came
heralded by terrors/ So many generations had been
released since the last white man had visited the river
that the very tradition had been lost. The appearance
of the being that descended upon them and demanded
inflexibly to be taken up to Patusan was discomposing;
his insistence was alarming; his generosity more than
suspicious. It was an unheard-of request. There was
no precedent. What would the Rajah say to this?
What would he do to them? The best part of the night
was spent in consultation; but the inmiediate risk from
the anger of that strange man seemed so great that at
last a cranky dug-out was got ready. The women
shrieked with grief as it put off. A fearless old hag
cursed the stranger.

""He sat in it, as I've told you, on his tin box, nursing
the unloaded revolver on his lap. He sat with pre-
caution — ^than which there is nothing more f atiguii^g —
and thus entered the land he was destined to fill with the
fame of his virtues, from the blue peaks inland to the
white ribbon of surf on the coast. At the first bend he
lost sight of the sea with its labouriing waves for ever
^mg, sinkbg, and vanishing to rise again^the yeiy.
image of struggling mankind:^and7aced the inunovable
f(»ests rooted deep in the soil, soaring towards the sun-
shine, everlasting injjii&^hadawy might of their tradi-
tion, likg life itsel^.jAnd his opportunity s^t veiled by

eM LOBD JIM

Ids side l&e «a E»rtem l>ridi^jraitmg to be ancovered

Lhy th^ hand of the innifrr, J He,^oo9 was the heir of a
shadowy and mighty traditionl He told me, how-

ever, that he had never in his lift felt so depressed and
tired as in that canoe. AU the movement he dared to
allow himself was to reach, as it were by stealth, after
the shell of half a cocoa-nut floating between his shoes,
and bale some of the water out with a carefully re-
strained action. He discovered how hard the lid of a
block-tin case was to sit upon. He had heroic health;
but several times during that journey he experienced
fits of giddiness, and between whiles he speculated
hazily as to the size of the blister the sun was raising on
his back. For amusement he tried by looking ahead to
decide whether the muddy object he saw lying on the
water's edge was a log of wood or an alligator. Only
very soon he had to give that up. No fun in it. Al-
ways alligator. One of them flopped into the river
and all but capsized the canoe. But this excite-
ment was over directly. Then in a long empty reach
he was very grateful to a troop of monkeys who
came right down on the bank and made an insulting
hullabaloo on his passage. Such was the way in
which he was approaching greatness as genuine as any
man ever achieved. Principally, he longed for sunset;
and meantime his three paddlers were preparing to
put into execution their plan of delivering him up to
the Rajah.

"'I suppose I must have been stupid with fatigue, or
perhaps I did doze off for a time/ he said. The first
thing he knew was his canoe coming to the bank. He
became instantaneously aware of the forest having
been left behind, of the first houses being visible higher
up, of a stockade on his left, and of his boatmen leaping
out together upon a low point of land and taking to

LORD JIM 245

their heels. Instinctively he leaped out after them.
At first he thought himself deserted for some incon-
ceivable reason, but he heard excited shouts, a gate
swung open, and a lot of people poured out, making
towards him. At the same time a boat full of armed
men appeared on the river and came alongside his
empty canoe, thus shutting off his retreat.

"*I was too startled to be quite cool — don't you
know? and if that revolver had been loaded I would
have shot somebody — ^perhaps two, three bodies, and
that would have been the end of me. But it
wasn't. . . : 'Why not?' I asked. 'Well, I
couldn't fight the whole population, and I wasn't com-
ing to them as if I were afraid of my life,' he said, with
just a faint hint of his stubborn suUdness in the glance
he gave me. I refrained from pointing out to him that
they could not have known the chambers were actually
empty. He had to satisfy himself in his own way. . . .
'Anyhow it wasn't,' he repeated, good-humoiu*edly,
'and so I just stood still and asked them what was the
matter. That seemed to strike them dumb. I saw
some of these thieves going off with my box. That
long-legged old scoundrel Kassim (I'll show him to you
to-morrow) ran out fussing to me about the Rajah
wanting to see me. I said, "All right"; I, too, wanted
to see the Rajah, and I simply walked in through the
gate and — and — ^here I am.' He laughed, and then
with unexpected emphasis, 'And do you know what's
the best in it?' he asked. 'I'll tell you. It's the
knowledge that had I been wiped out it is this place that
would have been the loser.'

"He spoke thus to me before his house on that
evening I've mentioned — after we had watched the
moon float away above the chasm between the hills like
an ascending spirit out of a grave; its sheen descended.

/^

[

).JU

AW

S46 LORD JIM

cold and pale, like the ghost of dead sunlight. There
[is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has
all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and
something of its inconceivable mystery. It is to our
sunshine, which — say what you like — is all we have to
live by, what the edio is to the sound: misleading and
confusing whether the note be mocking or sad. It robs
all forms of matter — which, after all, is our domain —
of their substance, and gives a sinister reality to shadows
alone. And the shadows were very real around us, but
Jim by my side looked very stalwart, as though noth*
ing — ^not even the occult power of moonlight — could
rob him of his reality in my eyes. Perhaps, indeed,
nothing could touch him since he had survived the
.jussault of the dark powers. All was silent, all was still;
even on the river the moonbeams slept as on a pool. It
was the moment of high water, a moment of immobility
that accentuated the utter isolation of this lost comer
of the earth. The houses crowding along the wide
shining sweep without ripple or glitter, stepping into
the water in a line of jostling, vague, grey, silvery forms
mingled with black masses of shadow, were like a
spectral herd of shapeless creatures pressing forward to
drink in a spectral and lifeless stream. Here and there
a red gleam twinkled within the bamboo walls, warm,
like a living spark, significant of human affections, of
shelter, of repose.

"He confessed to me that he often watched these tiny
warm gleams go out one by one, that he loved to see
people go to sleep under his eyes, confident in the
security of to-morrow. * Peaceful here, eh?' he asked.
He was not eloquent, but there was a deep meaning in
the words that followed. ^Look at these houses;
there's not one where I am not trusted. Jove! I told
you I would hang on. Ask any man, woman, or

LORD JIM 247

child • • /He paused. ' Well, I am all right aay-
how.*

"I observed quickly that he had found that out in the
end. I had been sure of it, I added. He shook his
head. * Were you? * He pressed my arm lightly above
the elbow. *Well, then — ^you were right.'

^^ There was elation and pride, there was awe almost,
in that low exclamation. ^ Jove!' he cried, ^only think
what it is to me.' Again he pressed my arm. 'And
you asked me whether I thought of leaving. Good
(rod! I! want to leave! Especially now after what
you told me of Mr. Stein's . . . Leave! Why!
That's what I was afraid of. It would have been —
it would have been harder than dying. No — on my
word. Don't laugh. I must feel — every day, every
time I open my eyes — ^that I am trusted — ^that nobody
has a right — don't you know? Leave! For where?
What for? To get what? '

*;i had told him (indeed it was the main object of my
visit) that it was Stein's intention to present him at
once with the house and the stock of trading goods, on
certain easy conditions which would make the trans-
action perfectly regular and valid. He b^an to snort
and plunge at first. * Confound your delicacy!' I
shouted. ^It isn't Stein at all. It's giving you what
you had made for yourself. And in any case keep your
remarks for M'Neil — ^when you meet him in the other
world. I hope it won't happen soon. . • .' He had
to give in to my arguments, because all his conquests,
the trust, the fame, the friendships, the love — ^all these
thingshAat made him master had made him a captive, — .^
too. I He lodked with an owner's eye at the peace of the /
^ — evening, at the river, at the houses, at the everlasting /
life of the forests, at the life of the old mankind, at the / *S^
secrets of the land, at the pride of his own heart: but it / (

% . \

■^

248 LORD JIM

/

was they that possessed him and made him their own to
the innermost thoiight,(td the slightest stir of blood, to
his last breath. ^

'^It was something to be proud of. I, too, was proud
— for him, if not so certain of the fabulous value of the
bargain. It was wonderful. It was not so much of his
fearlessness that I thought. It is strange how little
account I took of it: as if it had been something too
conventional to be at the root of the matter. No. I
was more struck by the other gifts he had displayed.
He had proved his grasp of the unfamiliar situation, his
intellectual alertness in that field of thought. There
was his readiness, too! Amazing. And all this had
come to him in a manner like keen scent to a well-bred
hound. He was not eloquent, but there was a dignity
in this constitutional reticence, there was a high serious-
ness in his stammerings. He had still his old trick of
stubborn blushing. Now and then, though, a word, a
sentence, would escape him that showed how deeply,
how solemnly, he felt about that work which had given
. him. the certitude of rehabiKtatibii^ That is why he
( seemed to love the land and the people with a sort of
\ fierce egoism, with a contemptuous tenderness.''

t

I

4

V ■ '^

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"*This is where I was prisoner for three days,* he
murmured to me (it was on the occasion of our visit to
the Rajah), while we were making our way slowly
through a kind of awestruck riot of dependants across
Tunku AUang's courtyard. * Filthy place, isn't it?
And I couldn't get anylJiing to eat either, unless I made
a row about it, and then it was only a small plate of
rice and a fried fish not much bigger than a stickle-
back — confound them ! Jove ! Fve been himgry prowl-
ing inside this stinking enclosure with some of these
vagabonds shoving their mugs right imder my nose. I
had given up that famous revolver of yours at the first
demand. Glad to get rid of the bally thing. Look
like a fool walking about with an empty shooting-iron
in my hand.' At that moment we came into the
presence, and he became unflinchingly grave and com-
plimentary with his late captor. Oh! magnificent!
I want to laugh when I think of it. But I was im-
pressed, too. The old disreputable Tunku AUang could
not help showing his fear (he was no hero, for all the
tales of his hot youth he was fond of telling); and at
the same time there was a wistful confidence in his
manner towards his late prisoner. Note ! Even where
he would be most hated he was still trusted. Jim — ^as
far as I could follow the conversation — ^was improving
the occasion by the delivery of a lecture. Some poor
villagers had been waylaid and robbed while on their
way to Doramin's house with a few pieces of gum or
beeswax which they wished to exchange for rice. *It

i

250 LORD JIM

was Doramin who was a thief/ burst out the Rajah.
A shaking fury seemed to enter that old frail body. He
writhed weirdly on his mat, gesticulating with his hands
and feet, tossing the tangled strings of his mop — an
impotent incarnation of rage. There were staring eyes
and dropping jaws all around us. Jim b^an to speak*
Resolutely, coolly, and for some time he enlarged upon
the text that no man should be prevented from getting
his food and his children's food honestly. The other
sat like a tailor at his board, one palm on each knee, his
head low, and fixing Jim through the grey hair that fell
over his very eyes. When Jim had done there was a
great stillness. Nobody seemed to breathe even; no
one made a sound till the old Rajah sighed faintly, and
looking up, with a toss of his head, said quickly, ^You
hear, my people ! No more of these little games.' This
decree was received in profound silence. A rather
heavy man, evidently in a position of confidence, with
intelligent eyes, a bony, broad, very dark face, and a
cheerily officious manner (I learned later on he was the
executioner), presented to us two cups of coffee on a
brass tray, which he took from the hands of an inferior
attendant. *You needn't drink,' muttered Jim very
rapidly. I didn't perceive the meaning at first, and
only looked at him. He took a good sip and sat
composedly, holding the saucer in his left hand. In a
moment I felt excessively annoyed. *Why the devil,*
I whispered, smiling at him amiably, Mo you expose me
to such a stupid risk?' I drank, of course, there was
nothing for it, while he gave no sign, and almost im-
mediately afterwards we took our leave. While we
were going down the courtyard to our boat, escorted by
the intelligent and cheery executioner, Jim said he was
very sorry. It was the biarest chance, of course. Per-
sonally he thought nothing of poison. The remotest

LORD JIM 251

chance. He was — ^he assured me — considered to be
infinitely more useful than dangerous, and so • • •
^But the Rajah is afraid of you abominably. Anybody
can see that/ I argued, witih, I own, a certain peevish-
ness, and all the time watching anxiously for the first
twist of some sort of ghastly colic. I was awfully dis-
gusted. *If I am to do any good here and preserve my
position,' he said, taking his seat by my side in the boat,
^I must stand the risk: I take it once every month, at
least. Many people trust me to do that — ^for them.
Afraid of me! That's just it. Most likely he is afraid
of me because I am not afraid of his coffee.' Then ■
showing me a place on the north front of the stockade S^
where the pointed tops of several stakes were broken, ^'
* This is where I leaped oy er on my third d ay in Patusan. | tfi^"^
They haven't put new stakes there yet. Good leap, eh? '
A moment later we passed the mouth of a muddy creek.
^This is m vsecond l^ p. I had a bit of a run and took
this one flymg, but fell short. Thought I would leave
my skin there. Lost my shoes struggling. And all the
time I was thinking to myself how beastly it would be to
get a jab with a bally long spear while sticking in the
mud like this. I remember how sick I felt wrij
thatjlixQe. I ui(Uin 'reahy sick — ^as if i naa bitien some-
{Emg rotten.'

"That's how it was — ^and the opportunity ran by his
side, leaped over the gap, floundered in the mud • • •
still veiled. The unexpectedness of his coining was the
only thing, you understand, that saved him from being
at once despatched with krises and flung into the river.
They had him, but it was like getting hold of an ap-
parition, a wraith, a portent. What did it mean?
What to do with it? Was it too late to conciliate him?
Hadn't he better ie killed without more delay? But
what would happen then? Wretched old Allang went

/

252 LORD JIM

nearly mad with apprehension and through the difficulty
I making up his mind. Several times the council was
roken up, and the advisers made a break helter-skelter
or the dpor and out on to the verandah. One — ^it is
aid — even jumped down to the groimd — ^fifteen feet, I
should judge — ^and broke his leg. The royal governor
of Patusan had bizarre mannerisms, and one of them
was to introduce boastful rhapsodies into every arduous
discussion, when, getting gradually excited, he would
end by flying off his perch with a kris m his hand. But,
barring such interruptions, the deUberations upon Jim's
fate went on night and day.

** Meanwhile he wandered about the courtyard,
shunned by some, glared at by others, but watched by
all, and practically at the mercy of the first casual
ragamuffin with a chopper, in there. He took posses-
sion of a small tumble-down shed to sleep in; the effuvia
of ffith and rotten matter inconmioded him greatly: it
seems he had not lost his appetite though, because — ^he
told me — ^he had been hungry all the blessed time.
Now and again *some fussy ass' deputed from the coun-
cil-room would come out running to him, and in honeyed
I tones would administer amazing interrogatories : * Were
the Dutch coming to take the country? Would the
white man like to go back down the river? What was
the object of coming to such a miserable country? The
Rajah wanted to know whether the white man could
repair a watch? They did actually bring out to him a
nickel clock of New England make, and out of sheer un-
bearable boredom he busied himself in trying to get the
alarum to work. It was apparently when thus occupied
in his shed that the true perception of his eirtreme peril
dawned upon him. He dropped the thing — ^he says —
*like a hot potato,' and walked out hastily, without the
slightest idea of what he would, or indeed could, do.

•>
\

LORD JIM 253

He only knew that the position was intolerable. He
strolled aimlessly beyond a sort of ramshackle little
granary on posts, and his eyes fell on the broken stakes
of the palisade; and then — ^he says — ^at once, without
any mental process as it were, without any stir of
emotion, he set about hi§ escape as if executing a plan
matured for a month. riBtek^ walked oflF carelessly to give
himself a good run, ana when he faced about there was
some dignitary, with two spearmen in attendance^
close at his elbow ready with a question* / He started
oflF *from under his very nose,' went over *like a bird,'
and landed on the other side with a fall that jarred all his
bones and seemed to spUt his head. He picked himself
up instantly. He never thought of anything at the
time; all he could remember — ^he said — ^was a great yell;
the first houses of Patusan were before him four him-
dred yards away; he saw the creek, and as it were
mechanically put on more pace. The earth seemed
fairly to fly backwards under his feet. He took off
from the last dry spot, felt himself flying through
the air, felt himself, without any shock, planted up-
right in an extremely soft and sticky mudbank. It
was only when he tried to move his legs and found he
couldn't that, in his own words, *he came to himself.*
He began to think of the * bally long spears.' As a
matter of fact, considering that the people inside the
stockade had to run to the gate, then get down to the
landing-place, get into boats, and pull round a point of
land, he had more advance than he imagined. Besides,
it being low water, the creek was without water — ^you
couldn*t call it dry — ^and practically he was safe for a
time from everything but a very long shot perhaps.
The higher firm ground was about six feet in front of
him. *I thought I would have to die there all the
same,' he said. He reached and grabbed desperately

/

254 LORD JIM

with his hands, and only succeeded in gathering a
horrible cold shiny heap of slime against his breast —
up to his very chin. It seemed to him he was burying
himself alive» and then he struck out madly, scattering
the mud with his fists. It fell on his head, on his face,
over his eyes, into his mouth. He told me that he
remembered suddenly the courtyard, as you remember a
place where you had been very happy years ago. He

said — ^to be back there again, mending

^r -that was the id ea. He

\e efforts, tremendous sobbing, gasping efforts,
Forts that seemed to burst his eyeballs in their sockets
land make him blind, and culminating into one mighty
[supreme effort in the darkness to crack the earth
sunder, to throw it off his limbs — and he felt himself
creeping feebly up the bank. He lay full length on the
firm ground and saw the light, the sky. Then as a sort
of happy thought the notion came to him that he would
go to sleep. He will have it that he did actually go to
sleep; that he slept — ^perhaps for a minute, perhaps for
twenty seconds, or only for one second, but he recollects
distinctly the violent convulsive start of awakening.
He remained lying still for a while, and then he arose
muddy from head to foot and stood there, thinking he
was alone of his kind for hundreds of miles, alone, with

y no help, no sympathy, no pity to expect from any one,
like a hunted animal. The first houses were not more

'^ c than twenty yards from him; and it was the desperate

/screaming of a frightened woman trying to carry off a
child that started him again. He pelted straight on
in his socks, beplastered with filth out of all semblance
to a human being. He traversed more than half the
length of the settlement. The nimbler women fied
right and left, the slower men just dropped whatever
they had in their hands, and remained petrified with

\

LORD JIM 255

dropping jaws. He was a flying terror. He says he
noticed the little children trying to run for life, falling
on their little stomachs and kicking. He swerved
between two houses up a slope, clambered in despera-
tion over a barricade of felled trees (there wasn't a week
without some fight in Patusan at that time), burst
through a fence into a maize-patch, where a scared boy
flung a stick at him, blimdered upon a path, and ran all
at once into the arms of several startled men. He just
had breath enough to gasp out, ^Doramin! Doramin!'
He remembers being half -carried, half-rushed to the top
of the slope, and in a vast enclosure with palms and
fruit-trees being run up to a large man sitting massively
in a chair in the midst of the greatest possible com-
motion and excitement. He fumbled in mud and clothes
to produce the ring, and, finding himself suddenly on his
back, wondered who had knocked him down. They had
simply let him go — don't you know? — ^but he couldn't
stand. At the foot of the slope random shots were
fired, and above the roofs of the settlement there rose a
dull roar of amazement. But he was safe. Doramin's
people were barricading the gate and pouring water
down his throat; Doramin's old wife, full of business and
commiseration, was issuing shrill orders to her girls.
^The old woman,' he said, softly, ^rnade a to-do over
me as if I had been her own son. They put me into
an immense bed — ^her state bed — and she ran in and out
wiping her eyes to give me pats on the back. I must
have been a pitiful object. I just lay there like a log for
I don't know how long.'

""He seemed to have a great liking for Doramin's
old wife. She on her side had taken a motherly fancy
to him. She had a round, nut-brown, soft face, all
fine wrinkles, large, bright red lips (she chewed betel
assiduously), and screwed-up, winking, benevolent

r

256 LORD JIM

eyes. She was constantly in movement, scolding busily
and ordering imceasingly a troop of young women with
clear brown faces and big grave eyes, her daughters,
— bec^ervants, her slave-girls. You know how it is in
these households: it's generally impossible to tell the
^ difference. She was very spare, and even her ample
outer garment, fastened in front with jewelled clasps,
had somehow a skimpy effect. Her dark bare feet
were thrust into yellow straw slippers of Chinese make.
I have seen her myself flitting about with her extremely
thick, long, grey hair falling about her shoulders. She
uttered homely shrewd sayings, was of noble birth, and
was eccentric and arbitrary. In the afternoon she
would sit in a very roomy arm-chair, opposite her hus-
band, gazing steadily through a wide opening in the
wall which gave an extensive view of the settlement
and the river.

"She invariably tucked up her feet under her, but
old Doramin sat squarely, sat imposingly as a moimtain
sits on a plain. He was only of the nakkoda or merchant
class, but the respect shown to him and the dignity of
his bearing were very striking. He was the chief of the
second power in Patusan. The inunigrants from Celebes
(about sixty families that, with dependants and so on,
could muster some two hundred men * wearing the kris')
had elected him years ago for their head. The men of
that race are intelligent, enterprising, revengeful, but
with a more frank courage than the other Malays, and
restless under oppression. They formed the party
opposed to the Rajah. Of course the quarrels were for
trade. This was the primary cause of faction fights,
of the sudden outbreaks that would fill this or that part
of the settlement with smoke, flame, the noise of shots
and shrieks. Villages were burnt, men were dragged
into the Rajah's stockade to be killed or tortured for

...j:%

LORD JIM 267

the crime of trading with anybody else but himself.
Only a day or two before Jim's arrival several heads
of households in the very fishing village that was after-
wards taken under his especial protection had been
driven over the cliflFs by a party of the Rajah's spear-
men, on suspicion of having been coUecting edible birds'
nests for a Celebes trader. Rajah Allang pretended to
be the only trader in his coimtry, and the penalty for
the breach of the monopoly was death; but his idea of
trading was indistinguishable from the conmionest
forms of robbery. BGs cruelty and rapacity had no
other bounds than his cowardice, and he was afraid of
the organised power of the Celebes men, only — ^till Jim
came — ^he was not afraid enough to keep quiqt^*':Be
struck at them through his subjects, and thought
himself pathetically in the right. The situation was
complicated by a wandering stranger, an Arab half- I
breed, who, I believe, on purely religious grounds, had 1
incited the tribes in the interior (the bush-folk, as Jim |
himself called them) to rise, and had established himself |
in a fortified camp on the summit of one of the twin I
hills. He hung over the town of Fatusan like a hawk 1
over a poultry-yard, but he devastated the open coun-
try. Whole villages, deserted, rotted on their black-
ened posts over the banks of clear streams, dropping
piecemeal into the water the grass of their walls, the
leaves of their roofs, with a curious effect of natural
decay as if they had been a form of vegetation stricken
by a blight at its very root. The two parties in Fatusan
were not sure which one this partisan most desired to
plunder. The Rajah intrigued with him feebly. Some
of the Bugis settlers, weary with endless insecurity, were
half inclined to call him in. The younger spirits
amongst them, chaffing, advised to *get Sherif Ali with
his wild men and drive the Rajah Allang out of the

258 LORD JIM

country/ Doramin restrained them with difficulty.
He was growing old, and, though his influence had not
diminished, the situation was getting beyond him.
This was the state of affairs when Jim, bolting from the
Rajah's stockade, appeared before the chief of the
Bugis, produced the ring, and was received, in a manner
of speaking, into the heart of the community.*'

%

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

^DoRAMiN was one of the most remarkable men of
his race I had ever seen. His bulk for a Malay was
immense, but he did not look merely fat; he looked
imposing, momunental. This motionless body, dad in
rich stuffs, coloured silks, gold embroideries; this huge
head, enfolded in a red-and-gold head-kerchief; the
flat, big, round face, wrinkled, furrowed, with two
semicircular heavy folds starting on each side of wide,
fierce nostrils, and enclosing a thick-lipped mouth; the
throat like a bull; the vast corrugated brow overhanging
the staring proud eyes — ^made a whole that, once seen,
can never be forgotten. His impassive repose (he
seldom stirred a limb when once he sat down) was like
a display of dignity. He was never known to raise his
voice. It was a hoarse and powerful murmur, slightly
veiled as if heard from a distance. When he walked,
two short, sturdy young fellows, naked to the waist, in
white sarongs and with black skull-cap^ on the backs of
their heads, sustained his elbows; they would ease him
down and stand behind his chair till he wanted to rise,
when he would turn his head slowly, as if with difficulty,
to the right and to the left, and then they would catch
him under his armpits and help him up. For all that,
there was nothing of a cripple about him: on the con-
trary, all his ponderous movements were like mani-
festations of a mighty deliberate force. It was generally
believed he consulted his wife as to public affairs; but
nobody, as far as I know, had ever heard them exchange
a single word. When they sat in state by the wide

I

260 LORD JIM

opening it was in silence. They could see below them in
the declining light the vast expanse of the forest coun-
try, a dark sleeping sea of sombre green imdulating as
far as the violet and purple range of mountains; the
shining sinuosity of the river like an immense letter
S of beaten silver; the brown ribbon of houses following
the sweep of both banks, overtopped by the twin hills
uprising above the nearer tree-tops. They were won-
derfully contrasted: she, light, delicate, spare, quick,
a little witch-like, with a touch of motherly fussiness
in her repose; he, facing her, immense and heavy, like
a figure of a man roughly fashioned of stone, with some-
thing magnanimous and ruthless in his inmiobility. The
son of these old people was a most distinguished youth.
^^They had him late in life. Perhaps he was not
really so young as he looked. Four- or five-and-
twenty is not so yoimg when a man is already father
of a family at eighteen. When he entered the large
room, lined and carpeted with fine mats, and with a
high ceiling of white sheeting, where the couple sat in
state surrounded by a most deferential retinue, he
would make his way straight to Doramin, to kiss his
hand — which the other abandoned to him majesti-
cally — and then would step across to stand by his
mother's chair. I suppose I may say they idolised
him, but I never caught them giving him an overt
glance. Those, it is true, were public fimctions. The
room was generally thronged. The solemn formality
of greetings and leave-takings, the profoimd respect ex-
pressed in gestures, on the faces, in the low whispers,
is simply indescribable. ^It's weU worth seeing,' Jim
had assured me while we were crossing the river, on our
way back. *They are like people in a book, aren't they? '
he said triumphantly. *And Dain Waris — their son —
is the best friend (barring you) I ever had. What Mr.

LORD JIM ^ 261

Stein would call a good "war-comrade/* I was in
luck. Jove! I was in luck when I tumbled amongst
them at my last gasp/ He meditated with bowed head,
then rousing himself he added :

" *0f course I didn't go to sleep over it, but . . .*
He paused again. *It seemed to come to me,* he mur-
mured. * All at once I saw what I had to do . . /

"There was no doubt that it had come to him; and it ^^
had come through the war, too, as is natural, since this ^fl^*^
power that came to him was the power to make peac e.
It is in this sense alone that miglit so often is right.
You must not think he had seen his way at once. When
he arrived the Bugis community was in a most critical
position. *They were all afraid,' he said to me — *each
man afraid for himself; while I could see as plain as
possible that they must do something at once, if they
did not want to go under one after another, what
between the Rajah and that vagabond Sherif / But to
see that was nothing. When he got his idea he had to
drive it into reluctant minds, through the bulwarks of
fear, of selfishness. He drpve it ii^ ^% las t. And that
was nothing. He had to devise the means. He de-
vised them — ^an audacious plan; and his task was only
half done. He had to inspire with his own confidence
a lot of people who had hidden and absurd reasons to
hang back; he had to conciliate imbecile jealousies, and
argue away all sorts of senseless mistrusts. Without
the weight of Doramin's authority and his son's fiery
enthusiasm, he would have failed. Dain Waris, the
distinguished youth, was the first to believe in him;
theirs was one of those strange, profound, rare friend-
ships between brown and white, in which the very
difference of race seems to draw two hunan beings
closer by some mystic element of sympathy. Of Dain
Waris, his own people said with pride that he knew how

\

202 LORD JIM

to fight like a white man. This was true; he had that
sort of courage — ^the courage in the open, I may say —
but he had also a European mind. You meet them
sometimes like that, and are surprised to discover un-
expectedly a familiar turn of thought, an unobscured
vision, a tenacity of purpose, a touch of altruism. Of
small stature, but admirably well proportioned, Dain
Waris had a proud carriage, a polished, easy bearing, a
temperament like a dear flame. His dusky face, with
big black eyes, was in action expressive, and in repose
thoughtful. He was of a silent disposition; a firm
glance, an ironic smile, a courteous deliberation of
manner seemed to hint at great reserves of intelligence
and power. Such beings open to the Western eye, so
often concerned with mere surfaces, the hidden possi-
bilities of races and lands over which hangs the mystery
of unrecorded ages. He not only trusted Jim, he under-
stood him, I firmly believe. I speak of him because he
had captivated me. His — ^if I may say so — ^his caustic
placidity, and, at the same time, his intelligent sym-
pathy with Jim's aspirations, appealed to me. I
seemed to behold the very origin of friendship. If Jim

H^look the lead, the other had captivated his leader. In
I I fact, Jim-the^leader was a^capt ivc in e veryTSense. The
^ I land, the people, the friendship, the love, were like the
"^ [jealous guardians of his body. Every day added a link
to the fetters of that strange freedom. I felt convinced
of it, as from day to day I learned more of the story.

"The story! Haven't I heard the story? Fve
heard it on the march, in camp (he made me scour the
country after invisible game); I've listened to a good
part of it on one of the twin summits, after climbing the
last hundred feet or so on my hands and knees. Our
escort (we had volunteer followers from village to
village) had camped meantime on a bit of level ground

LORD JIM jees

half-way up the slope, and in the still breathless evening
the smdl of wood-smoke reached our nostrils from be-
low with the penetrating delicacy of some choice scent.
Voices also ascended, wonderful in their distinct and
immaterial deamess. Jim sat on the trunk of a felled
tree, and pulling out his pipe b^an to smoke. A new
growth of grass and bushes was springing up; there
were traces of an earthwork under a mass of thorny
twigs. *It all started from here,' he said, after a long
and meditative silence. On the other hill, two hun-
dred yards across a sombre precipice, I saw a line of
high blackened stakes, showing here and there ruin-
ously — ^the renmants of Sherif Ali's impregnable camp.
^^But it had been taken though. That had been
his idea. He had mounted Doramin's old ordnance
on the top of that hill; two rusty iron 7-pounders, a
lot of small brass cannon — currency cannon. But if the
brass guns represent wealth, they can also, when
crammed recklessly to the muzzle, send a solid shot to
some little distance. The thing was to get them up
there. He showed me where he had fastened the cables,
explained how he had improvised a rude capstan out
of a hollowed log turning upon a pointed stake, indi-
cated with the bowl of his pipe the outline of the earth-
work. The last hundred feet of the ascent had been
the most difficult. He had made himself responsible
for success on his own head. He had induced the war
party to work hard all night. Big fires lighted at inter-
vals blazed all down the slope, ^but up here,' he ex-
plained, *the hoisting gang had to fly around in the
dark.' From the top he saw men moving on the hill-
side like ants at work. He himself on that night had
kept on rushing down and climbing up like a squirrel,
directing, encouraging, watching all along the line.
Old Doramin had himself carried up the hill in his arm-

264 LORD JIM

chair. They put him down on the level place upon the

slope, and he sat there in the light of one of the big

fir^-^'^iSDazing old chap — ^real old chieftain/ said Jim»

ip- '^'witn his little fierce eyes — a pair of immense flintlock

2 pistols on his knees. Magnificent things, ebony,

silver-mounted, with beautiful locks and a calibre like

an old blunderbuss. A present from Stein, it seems —

in exchange for that ring, you know. Used to belong

to good old M'Neil. God only knows how he came by

them. There he sat, moving neither hand nor foot, a

flame of dry brushwood behind him, and lots of people

rushing about, shouting and pulling round him — ^the

most solemn, imposing old chap you can imagine. He

wouldn't have had much chance if Sherif Ali had let his

infernal crew loose at us and stampeded my lot. Eh?

Anyhow, he had come up there to die if anything went

I wrong. No mistake! Jove! It thrilled me to see

^ him there — ^like a rock. But the Sherif must have

Jr )^ I thought us mad, and never troubled to come and see
JT how we got on. Nobody believed it could be done.

iJS^jA Why! I think the very chaps who pulled and shoved and
sweated over it did not believe it could Jbe done! Upon
/ my word I don't think they did. . . .'

"He stood erect, the smouldering brier-wood in his
clutch, with a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his
boyish eyes. I sat on the stump of a tree at his feet,
and below us stretched the land, the great expanse of
the forests, sombre under the sunshine, rolling like a sea,
with glints of winding rivers, the grey spots of villages,
and here and there a clearing, like an islet of light
amongst the dark waves of continuous tree-tops. A
brooding gloom lay over this^.vast and monotonous
landscape; the light fell on it5^ if into an abyss. The
land devoured the sunshine; only far off, along the
coast, the empty ocean, smooth and polished within

i

LORD JBf 265

the faint haze, seemed to rise up to the sky in a wall

of steel.

"And there I wa^ with him, high in the sunshine on
the top of that historic hill of his. .. He domin ated t he
forest, the secular gloom, ^;ttie^ old 'AanElE^XH^ was
like a figure set lip^ofi a pSEtSSHflTTSTPepFesent in his^
p^sistent youth thepow^, and perhaps the virtues, of
faces that never grow old^ tbat^hayei emerged from the
gloom. I don't know why he should always have ap- i
peared to me symboKc. Perhaps this is the real cause ^^
of my interest in his fate. I don't know whether it was \^\f
exactly fair to him to remember the incident which had
given a new direction to his life, but at that very mo-
ment I remembered very distinctly. It was like a
shadow in the light."

]

CHAPTER TWENTY^EVEN

''Albbadt the legend had gifted him with super-
natural powers. Yes, it was said, there had been many
ropes cunningly disposed, and a strange contrivance
that turned by the efforts of many men, and each gun
went up tearing slowly through the bushes, like a wild
pig rooting its way in the imdergrowth, but . . •
and the wisest shook their heads. There was some-
thing occult in all this, no doubt; for what is the strength
' of ropes and of men's arms? There is a rebellious soul
in things which must be overcome by powerful charms
I and incantations. Thus old Sura — a very respectable
householder of Fatusan — ^with whom I had a quiet chat
one evening. However, Sura was a professional sorcerer
also, who attended all the rice sowings and reapings for
miles aroimd for the purpose of subduing the stubborn
soul of things. This occupation he seemed to think a
most arduous one, and perhaps the souls of things are
more stubborn than the souls of men. As to the simple
folk of outlying villages, they believed and said (as the
most natural thing in the world) that Jim had carried
the guns up the hill on his back — ^two at a time.

^'This would make Jim stamp his foot in vexation
and exclaim with an exasperated Uttle laugh, ^What
can you do with such silly beggars? They will sit up
half the night talking bally rot, and the greater the lie
the more they seem to like it.' You could trace the
subtle influence of his surroundings in this irritation.
It was part of his captivity. The earnestness of his
denials was amusing, and at last I said, 'My dear

266

LORD JIM 267

fellow, you don't suppose / believe this/ He looked at
me quite startled. ^Well, no! I suppose not/ he said,
and burst into a Homeric peal of laughter. 'Well,
anyhow the guns were there, and went oflF together at
sunrise. Jove! You should have seen the splinters
fly,' he cried. By his side Dain Waris, listening with
a quiet smile, dropped his eyelids and shuffled his feet a
little. It appears that the success in mounting the
guns had given Jim's people such a feeling of confidence
that he ventured to leave the battery under charge of
two elderly Bugis who had seen some fighting in their
day, and went to join Dain Wans and the storming
party who were concealed in the ravine. In the small
hours they began creeping up, and when two-thirds of
the way up, lay in the wet grass waiting for the appear-
ance of the sun, which was the agreed signal. He told
me with what impatient anguishing emotion he watched
the swift coming of the dawn; how, heated with the
work and the climbing, he felt the cold dew chilling his
very bones; how afraid he wa^ he would begin to shiver
and shake like a leaf before the time came for the ad-
vance. *It was the slowest half -hour in my life,' he
declared. Gradually the silent stockade came out on
the sky above him. Men scattered all down the slope
were crouching amongst the dark stones and dripping
bushes. Dain Waris was lying flattened by his side.
'We looked at each other,' Jim said, resting a gentle
hand on his friend's shoulder. 'He smiled at me as
cheery as you please, and I dared not stir my lips for
fear I would break out into a shivering fit. Ton my
word, it's true! I had been streaming with perspiration
when we took cover — so you may imagine . . /
( He^declared, and I believe him, that he had no fears as
to the result. He was only anxious aiToiri s ability to
repress these shivers. He didn't bother about the

1

268 LORD JBf

result. He was bound to get to the top of that hill and
stay there, whatever might happen. There could be no
going back for him. Those people had trusted him
implicitly. Him alone! His bare word. ... .'

'*I remember how, at this point, he paused with his
eyes fixed upon me. ^ As far as he knew, they never had
an occasion to regret it yet,* he said. * Never. He
hoped to God they never would. Meantime — ^worse
luck! — ^they had got into the habit of taking his word
for anything and everything. I could have no idea!
Why? Only the other day an old fool he had never
seen in his life came from some village miles away to
find out if he should divorce his wife. Fact. Solemn
word. That's the sort of thing. ... He wouldn't
have believed it. Would I? Squatted on the verandah
chewing betel-nut, sighing and spitting all over the
place for more than an hour, and as glum as an under-
taker before he came out with that dashed conundrum.
That's the kind of thing that isn't so funny as it looks.
What was a fellow to say? — Good wife? — ^Yes. Good
wife — old though; started a confounded long story
about some brass pots. Been living together for
fifteen years — twenty years — could not tell. A long,
long time. Good wife. Beat her a little — ^not much —
just a little, when she was young. Had to — ^for the
sake of his honour. Suddenly in her old age she goes
and lends three brass pots to her sister's son's wife, and
begins to abuse him every day in a loud voice. His
enemies jeered at him; his face was utterly blackened.
Pots totally lost. Awfully cut up about it. Impossible
to fathom a story like that; told him to go home, and
promised to come along myself and settle it all. It's
all very well to grin, but it was the dashedest nuisance!
A day's journey through the forest, another day lost in
coaxing a lot of silly villagers to get at the rights of the

LORD JBi 269

affair. There was the making of a sanguinary shindy
in the thing. Every bally idiot took sides with one
family or the other, and one half of the village was
ready to go for the other half with anything that came
handy. Honour bright! No joke! . . . Instead
of attending to their bally crops. Got him the infernal
pots back of course — ^arid pacified all hands. No trouble
to settle it. Of course not. Could settle the deadliest
quarrel in the country by crooking his little finger.
The trouble was to get at the truth of anything. Was
not sure to this day whether he had been fair to all
parties. It worried him. And the talk! Jove! There
didn't seem to be any head or tail to it. Rather storm a
twenty-foot-high old stockade any day. Much! Child's
play to that other job. Wouldn't take so long either.
Well, yes; a funny set out, upon the whole — the fool
looked old enough to be his grandfather. But from
another point of view it was no joke. His word dcs
cided everything — ever since the smashing of Sherif Ali.
An awful responsibility,' he repeated. *No, really-
joking apart, had it been three lives instead of three
rotten brass pots it would have been the same. . . .'

"Thus he illustrated the moral effect of his victo^ >^
in war. It wa^ in truth immense. It had led him f rom^
strife to peace, and through death into the innermost '
life of the people; but the gloom of the land spread out
under the sunshine preserved its appearance of in-
scrutable, of secular repose. The sound of his fresh
yoimg voice — ^it's extraordinary how very few signs of
wear he showed — ^floated lightly, and passed away over
the imchanged face of the forests like the sound of the
big gims on that cold dewy morning when he had no
other concern on earth but the proper control of the
chills in his body. With the first slant of sun-rays
along these immovable tree-tops the summit of one hill

270 LORD JIM

wreathed itself » with heavy reports, in white clouds of
smoke, and the other burst into an amazing noise of
yells, war-cries, shouts of anger, of surprise, of dismay.
Jim and Dain Waris were the first to lay their hands on
the stakes. The popular story has it that Jim with a
touch of one finger had thrown down the gate. He was,
of course, anxious to disclaim this achievement. The
whole stockade — ^he would insist on explaining to you —
was a poor affair (Sherif Ali trusted mainly to the in-
accessible position); and, anyway, the thing had been
already knocked to pieces and only hung together by a
miracle. He put his shoulder to it like a little fool and
went in head over heels. Jove! If it hadn't been for
Dain Wans, a pock-marked tattooed vagabond would
have pinned him with his spear to a baulk of timber
like one of Stein's beetles. The third man in, it seems,
had been Tamb' Itam, Jim's own servant. This was a
Malay from the north, a stranger who had wandered
into Fatusan, and had been forcibly detained by Rajali
Allang as paddler of one of the state boats. He had
made a bolt of it at the first opportunity, and fionding a
precarious refuge (but very little to eat) amongst the
Bugis settlers, had attached himself to Jim's person.
His complexion was very dark, his face flat, his eyes
prominent and injected with bile. There was some-
thing excessive, almost fanatical, in his devotion to his
^ white lord.' He was inseparable from Jim like a
morose shadow. On state occasions he would tread
on his master's heels, one hand on the haft of his kris,
keeping the common people at a distance by his trucu-
lent brooding glances. Jim had made him the head-
man of his establishment, and all Fatusan respected and
courted him as a person of much influence. At the
taking of the stockade he had distinguished himself
greatly by the methodical ferocity of his fighting. The

LORD JIM 271

storming-party had come on so quick — ^Jim said — ^that
notwithstanding the panic of the garrison, there wa^ a
*Hot five minutes hand-to-hand inside that stockade,
till some bally ass set fire to the shelters of boughs and
dry grass, and we all had to clear out for dear life.'

*^The rout, it seems, had been completfs. Doramin
waiting immovably in his chair on the hillside, with
the smoke of the guns spreading slowly above his big
head, received the news with a deep grunt. When in-
formed that his son was safe and leading the pursuit, he,
without another sound, made a mighty effort to rise;
his attendants hurried to his help, and, held up rever-
ently, he shuffled with great dignity into a bit of shade
where he laid himself down to sleep covered entirely
with a piece of white sheeting. In Fatusan the ex-
citement was intense. Jim told me that from the hill,
turning his back on the stockade with its embers, black
ashes, and half-consumed corpses, he could see time
after time the open spaces between the houses on both
sides of the stream fill suddenly with a seething rush of
people and get empty in a moment. His ears caught
feebly from below the tremendous din of gongs and
drums; the wild shouts of the crowd reached him in
bursts of faint roaring. A lot of streamers made a
flutter as of little white, red, yellow birds amongst the
brown ridges of roofs. *You must have enjoyed it,* I
murmured, feeling the stir of sympathetic emotion.

"*It was ... it was immense! Immense!' he
cried aloud, flinging his arms open. The sudden
movement startled me as though I had seen him bare
the secrets of his breast to the sunshine, to the brooding
forests, to the steely sea. Below us the town reposed
in easy curves upon the banks of a stream whose cur-
rent seemed to sleep. * Immense!' he repeated for a
third time, speaking in a whisper, for himself alone.

/

272 LORD JIM

*^ Immense! No doubt it was immense; the seal of
success upon his words, the conquered ground for the
soles of his feet, the blind trust of men, the belief in him-
self snatched from tEe flTfi, the solitude of his achieve-
lent. All this, as I've warned you, gets dwarfed in the
tiling. I can't with mere words convey to you the
impression of his total and utter isolation. I know, of
course, he was in every sense alone of his kind there, but
the unsuspected quaUties of his nature had brought him
in such close touch with his surroundings that this
isolation seemed only the effect of his power. His
loneliness added to his stature. There was nothing
within sight to compare him with, as though he had
been one of those exceptional men who can be only
measured by the greatness of their fame; and his fame,
remember, was the greatest thing around for many a
day's journey. You would have to paddle, pole, or
track a long weary way through the jungle before you
passed beyond the reach of its voice. Its voice was not
the trumpeting^ of the disreputable goddess we all
_know — ^not blatant — ^not brazen. It took its tone from
the stillness and gloom of the land without a past, where
his word was the one truth of every passing day. It
shared something of the nature of that silence through
which it accompanied you into unexplored depths,
heard continuously by your side, penetrating, far-
reaching — tinged with wonder and mystery on iJie lips
of whispering men."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

«i

The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without
making another stand, and when the miserable himted
villagers began to crawl out of the jimgle back to their
rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation with .^
Dain Waris, appointed the headmen. Thus he be- ]

came the virtual r uler of tiie land. As to old Tunkii ^
Allang, his fears at fir^t had known no bounds. It is
said that at the intelligence of the successful storming
of the hill he flung himself, face down, on the bamboo
floor of his audience-hall, and lay motionless for a
whole night and a whole day, uttering stifled soimds of
such an appalling nature that no man dared approach
his prostrate form nearer than a spear's length. Al-
ready he could see himself driven ignominiously out of
Fatusan, wandering abandoned, stripped, without opi-
um, without his women, without followers, a fair game
for the first comer to kill. After Sherif Ali his turn
would come, and who could resist an attack led by
such a devil? And indeed he owed his life and such
authority as he still possessed at the time of my visit to
Jim's idea of what was fair alone. The Bugis had
been extremely anxious to pay oflf old scores, and the
impassive old Doramin cherished the hope of yet see-
ing his son ruler of Fatusan. During one of our inter-
views he deliberately allowed me to get a glimpse of
this secret ambition. Nothing could be finer in its way
than the dignified wariness of his approaches. He
himself — ^he began by declaring — ^had used his strength
in his young days, but now he had grown old and

273

\

274 LORD JIM

tired. . . . With his imposing bulk and hau^^ty
little eyes darting sagacious^ inquisitive glances, he re-
minded one irresistibly of a cunning old elephant; the
slow rise and fall of his vast breast went on powerful and
r^ular, like the heave of a calm sea. He, too, as he
protested, had an imboimded confidence in Tuan Jim's
wisdom. If he could only obtain a promise ! One word
would be enough! . . . His breathing silences, the
low rumblings of his voice, recalled the last efforts of a
spent thunderstorm.

*'I tried to put the subject aside. It was di£Scult,
for there could be no question that Jim had the power;
in his new sphere there did not seem to be anything that
was not his to hold or to give. But that, I repeat, was
nothing in comparison with the notion, which occurred
to me, while I listened with a show of attention, that he
seemed to have come very near at last to mastering his
fate. Doramin was anxious about the future of the
country, and I was struck by the turn he gave to the
argument. The land remains where God had put it;
but white men — he said — they come to us and m a
little while they go. They go away. Those they leave
behind do not know when to look for their return.
They go to their own land, to their people, and so this
white man, too, would. ... I don't know what in-
duced me to commit myself at this point by a vigorous
*No, no.' The whole extent of this indiscretion be-
came apparent when Doramin, turning full upon me
his face, whose expression, fixed in rugged deep folds,
remained unalterable, like a huge brown mask, said
that this was good news indeed, reflectively; and then
wanted to know why.

**His little, motherly witch of a wife sat on my other
hand, with her head covered and her feet tucked up,
gazing through the great shutter-hole. I could only

LORD JBi 275

see a straying lock of grey hair, a high cheek-bone, the
slight masticating motion of the sharp chin. Without
removing her eyes from the vast prospect of forests
stretching as far as the hills, she asked me in a pitying
voice why was it that he so young had wandered from
his home, coming so far, through so many dangers?
Had he no household there, no kinsmen in his own coun-
try? Had he no old mother, who would always re- ^
member his face? • . •

''I was completely unprepared for this. I could only
mutter and shake my head vaguely. Afterwards I
am perfectly aware I cut a very poor figure trying to
extricate myself out of this difficulty. From that mo-
ment, however, the old nakhoda became taciturn. He
was not very pleased, I fear, and evidently I had given
him food for thought. Strangely enough, on the even- V

brings me to the f,\j^ry o'[\^^^^ ^' ' J

^'I suppose you think it is a story that you can
imagine for yourselves. We have heard so many such
stories, and the majority of us don't believe them to be
stories of love at all. For the most part we look upon
them as stories of opportunities: episodes of passion at
best, or perhaps only of youth and temptation, doomed
to forgetf ulness in the end, even if they pass through the
reality of tenderness and regret. This view mostly is
right, and perhaps in this case, too. • • • Yet I
don't know. To tell this story is by no means so easy
as it should be — ^were the ordinary standpoint adequate.
Apparently it is a story very much like the others: for
me, however, there is visible in its backgroimd the
melancholy figure of a woman, the shadow of a cruel
wisdom buried in a lonely grave, looking on wistfully.

276 LORD JIM

helplessly, with sealed lips. The grave itself, as I came
^^tipon it during an early morning stroll, was a rather
shapeless brown mound, with an inlaid neat border of
white lumps of coral at the base, and enclosed within a
circular fence made of split saplings, with the bark left
on. A garland of leaves and flowers was woven about
the heads of the slender posts — and the flowers were
fresh.

"Thus, whether the shadow is of my imagination
or not, I can at all events point out the significant fact
of an imf orgotten grave. When I tell you besides that
Jim with his own hands had worked at the rustic fence,
you will perceive directly the difference, the individual
side of the story. There is in his espousal of memory
and affection belonging to another human being some-
thing characteristic of his seriousness. He had a con-
science, and it was a romantic conscience. Through
her whole life the wife of the imspeakable ComeUus had
no other companion, confidante, and friend but her
daughter. How the poor woman had come to marry the
awful Malacca Portuguese — ^after the separation from
the father of her girl — and how that separation had been
brought about, whether by death, which can be some-
times merciful, or by the merciless pressiure of conven-
tions, is a mystery to me. From the little which Stein
(who knew so many stories) had let drop in my hearing,
I am convinced that she was no ordinary woman. Her
own father had been a white; a high official; one of the
brilliantly endowed men who are not dull enough to
nurse a success, and whose careers so often end under
a cloud. I suppose she, too, must have lacked the
saving dullness — ^and her career ended in Fatusan.
Our common fate . . . for where is the man — ^I
mean a real sentient man — ^who does not remember
vaguely having hpen jdesefted in the fullness of pos-

\ \^ ,j*^"\

LORD JIM 277

session by some one or something more precious than
life? . . . our common fate fastens upon the women ^
with a peculiar cruelty. It does not punish like "a
master, but inflicts lingering torment, as if to gratify a
secret, unappeasable spite. One would think that,
appointed to rule on earth, it seeks to revenge itself
upon the beings that come nearest to rising above the
trammels of earthly caution; f or it is only women_w Kq X
manage to put at times into their love an elementlu st / *
pal ggMT^SlyE to give one a f right-an extra-tm ^ea^ V'
t rial touch. I ask myself with wonder — ^how the world
can look to them — ^whether it has the shape and sub-
stance we know, the air toe breathe ! Sometimes I fancy
it must be a region of unreasonable sublimities seething
with the excitement of their adventurous souls, lighted
by the glory of all possible risks and renunciations.
However/I suspect there are very few wo]
world, though of course I am aware of the multitudes of
mankind and of t.lig_P!fliiftlity of ftfty^a in point nf niim-
JbfiraT-that is.^But I am sure that the mother was as
much of a woman as the daughter seemed to be. (I
cannot help picturing to myself these two, at first the
young woman an^ ti^e child, thfiarJlie old woman and

the young gir^lh^ awful jggmfiOiM&iAAd the swift passage
of time, the bafrifer of forest, the soUtude and the tur-
moil round these two lonely lives, and every word
spoken between them penetrated with sad meaning.
There must have been confidences, not so much of fact,
I suppose, as of innermost feelings — ^regrets — ^fears —
warnings, no doubt : warnings that the younger did not
fully imderstand till the elder was dead — ^and Jim came
along. Then I am sure she imderstood much — ^not
everything — ^the fear mostly, it seems. Jim called her
by a word that means precious, in the sense of a precious
gem — ^jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of

3''" « f-

r

\
1

k i

J ^ \ . -., ^ . .. ^ ;. ~\

278 LORD JIM

anything. He was equal to his fortune, as he — ^after
all — ^must have been equal to his misfortune. Jewel he
called her; and he would say this as he might have said
*Jane/ don't you know — with a marital, homelike,
peaceful effect. I heard the name for the first time ten
minutes after I had landed in his courtyard, when, after
nearly shaking my arm off, he darted up the steps and
began to make a joyous, boyish disturbance at the door
under the heavy eaves. 'Jewel! O Jewel! Quick!
Here's a friend come,' • • . and suddenly peering
at me in the dim verandah, he mumbled earnestly,
*You know — ^this — ^no confounded nonsense about it —
can't tell you how much I owe to her — and so — ^you
understand — ^I — exactly as if • • .' His hurried,
anxious whispers were cut short by the flitting of a white
form within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-
like but energetic little face with deUcate features and a
profound, attentive glance peeped out of the inner
gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a nest. I was
struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later
on that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that
had met me on my journey, at a little place on the coast
about 230 miles south of Fatusan river. Stein's
schooner, in which I had my passage, put in there,
to collect some produce, and going ashore, I found to
my great surprise that the wretched locaKty could
boast of a third-class deputy-assistant resident, a big,
fat, greasy, blinking fellow of mixed descent, with
turned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on
his back in a cane chair, odiously imbuttoned, with a
large green leaf of some sort on the top of his steaming
head, and another in his hand which he used lazily as a
fan. . . . Going to Patusan? Oh, yes. Stein's
Trading Company. He knew. Had a permission?
No business of his. It was not so bad there now, he

LORD JIM 279

remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling,
* There's some sort of white vagabond has got in there,
I hear. . • • Eh? What you say? Friend of
yours? So! . . . Then it was true there was one
of these verdanUe — ^What was he up to? Found his way
in, the rascal. Eh? I had not been sure. Patusan —
they cut throats there — no business of ours.* He
interrupted himself to groan. 'Phoo! Almighty!
The heat! The heat! Well, then, there might be
something in the story, too, after all, and • . / He
shut one of his beastly glassy eyes (the eyelid went on
quivering), while he leered at me atrociously with the
other. *Look here,* says he, mysteriously, *if — do you
understand? — ^if he has really got hold of something
fairly good — ^none of your bits of green glass — ^under-
stand? — ^I am a government official — ^you tell the ras-
cal .. . Eh? What? Friend of yours?* . . .
He continued wallowing cahnly in the chair. . . .
^ You said so; that's just it; and I am pleased to give you
the hint. I suppose you, too, would like to get some-
thing out of it? Don't interrupt. You just tell him
I've heard the tale, but to my government I have made
no report. Not yet. See? Why make a report? Eh?
Tell him to come to me if they let him get alive out of
the country. He had better look out for himself. Eh?
I promise to ask no questions. On the quiet — ^you
understand? You, too — ^you shall get something from
me. Small commission for the trouble. Don't inter-
rupt. I am a government official, and make no report.
That's business. Understand? I know some good
people that will buy anything worth having, and can
give him more money than the scoundrel ever saw in his
life. I know his sort/ He fixed me steadfastly with
both his eyes open, while I stood over him utterly
amazed, and asking myself whether he was mad or

280 LORD JIM

drunk. He perspired, puffed, moaning feebly, and
scratching himself with such horrible composure that I
could not bear the sight long enough to find out. Next
day, talking casually with the people of the little native
court of the place, I discovered that a story was travel-
ling slowly down the coast about a mysterious white
man in Patusan who had got hold of an extraordinary
gem — ^namely, an emerald of an enormous size, and
altogether priceless. The emerald seems to appeal
more to the Eastern imagination than any other pre-
cious stone. The white man had obtained it, I was told,
partly by the exercise of his wonderful strength and
partly by cunning, from the ruler of a distant country,
whence he had fled instantly, arriving in Patusan in
utmost distress, but frightening the people by his ex-
treme ferocity, which nothing seemed able to subdue.
Most of my informants were of the opinion that the
stone was probably unlucky, — ^like the famous stone of
the Sultan of Succadana, which in the old times had
brought wars and untold calamities upon that country.
Perhaps it was the same stone — one couldn't say. In-
deed the story of a fabulously large emerald is as old as
the arrival of the first white men in the Archipelago;
and the belief in it is so persistent that less than forty
years ago there had been an official Dutch inquiry
into the truth of it. Such a jewel — ^it was explained to
me by the old fellow from whom I heard most of this
amazing Ji m^my th — a sort of scribe- to the wretched
little Rajah of the place; — ^such a jewel, he said, cock-
ing his poor purblind eyes up at me (he was sitting on
the cabin floor out of respect), is best preserved by
being concealed about the person of a woman. Yet it
is not every woman that would do. She must be
young — ^he sighed deeply — and insensible to the se-
ductions of love. He shook his head sceptically. But

LORD JIM 281

such a woman seemed to be actually in existence. He
had been told of a tall girl, whom the white man treated
with great respect and care, and who never went forth
from the house unattended. People said the white
man could be seen with her almost any day; they
walked side by side, openly, he holding her arm under
his— pressed to his side-thus— in a most extraordinary
way. This might be a lie, he conceded, for it was in-
deed a strange thing for any one to do: on the other
hand, there could be no doubt she wore the white man's
jewel concealed upon her bosom."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"This was the theory of Jun's marital evening walks.
I made a third on more than one occasion, unpleas-
antly aware every time of Cornelius, who nursed the
aggrieved sense of his legal paternity, slinking in the
neighbourhood with that peculiar twist of his mouth
as if he were perpetually on the point of gnashing his
teeth. But do you notice how, three hundred miles
beyond the end of telegraph cables and mail-boat lines,
the haggard utilitarian lies of our civilisation wither and
die, to be replaced by pure exercises of imagination,
that have the futility, often the charm, and sometimes
the deep hidden truthfulness, of works of art? Ro-
mance had singled Jim for its own — ^and that was the
true part of the story, which otherwise was all wrong.
He did not hide his jewel. In fact, he was extremely
proud of it.

"It comes to me now that I had, on the whole, seen
very little of her. What I remember best is the even,
olive pallor of her complexion, and the intense blue-
black gleams of her hair, flowing abundantly from imder
a small crimson cap she wore far back on her shapely
head. Her movements were free, assured, and she
blushed a dusky red. While Jim and I were talking,
she would come and go with rapid glances at us, leaving
on her passage an impression of grace and charm and a
distinct suggestion of watchfulness. Her manner pre-
sented a curious combination of shyness and audacity.
Every pretty smile was succeeded swiftly by a look of
silent, repressed anxiety, as if put to flight by the

282

LORD JIM 283

recollection of some abiding danger. At times she
would sit down with us and, with her soft cheek dimpled
by the knuckles of her little hand, she would listen to our
talk; her big clear eyes would remain fastened on our
lips, as though each pronounced word had a visible
shape. Her mother had taught her to read and write;
she had learned a good bit of EngUsh from Jim, and she
spoke it most amusingly, with his own clipping, boyish
intonation. Her tenderness hovered over him Kke a A
flutter of wings. She lived so completely in his con-
templation that she had acquired something of his out*
ward aspect, something that recalled him in her move-
ments, in the way she stretched her arm, turned her
head, directed her glances. Her vigilant aflfection had
an intensity that made it almost perceptible to the
senses; it seemed actually to exist in the ambient
matter of space, to envelop him like a peculiar fra-
grance, to dwell in the sunshine like a tremulous, sub-
dued, and impassioned note. I suppose you think that
I, too, am romantic, but it is a mistake. I am relating
to you the sober impressions of a bit of youth, of a
strange uneasy romance that had come in my way. I
observed with interest the work of his — well — ^good
fortune. He was jealously loved, but why she should j
be jealous, and of what, I could not tell. The land, the
people, the forests were her accomplices, guarding him
with vigilant accord, with an air of seclusion, of mystery, ^
of invincible possession. There was no appeal, as i1
were; he was imprisoned within the very freedom of his
power, and she, though ready to make a footstool of
her head for his feet, guarded her conquest inflexibly —
as though he were hard to keep. The very Tamb*
Itam, marching on our journeys upon the heels of his
white lord, with his head thrown back, truculent and ; .--.f
be-weaponed like a janissary, with kris, chopper, and --^ -^

.1 > ' . » V

' « I ^ .■■■"*

V

284 LORD JIM

lance (besides carrying Jim's gun); even Tamb' Itam
allowed himself to put on the airs of uncompromising
guardianship, like a surly devoted jailer ready to lay
down his life for his captive. On the evenings when
we sat up late his silent, indistinct form would pass
and repass under the verandah, with noisdess footsteps,
or Ef ting my head I would unexpectedly make him out
standing rigidly erect in the shadow. As a general rule
he would vanish after a time, without a sound; but
when we rose he would spring up close to us as if from
the ground, ready for any orders Jim might wish to
give. The girl, too, I believe, never went to sleep till we
had separated for the night. More than once I saw
her and Jim through the window of my room come out
together quietly and lean on the rough balustrade —
two white forms very close, his arm about her waist, her
head on his shoulder. Their soft murmurs reached me,
penetrating, tender, with a calm sad note in the stillness
of the night, like a self-communion of one being carried
on in two tones. Later on, tossing on my bed under the
mosquito-net, I was sure to hear slight creakings, faint
breathing, a throat cleared cautiously — and I would
know that Tamb' Itam was still on the prowl. Though
he had (by the favour of the white lord) a house in the
compoimd, had * taken wife,* and had lately been blessed
with a child, I believe that, during my stay at all events,
he slept on the verandah every night. It was very dif-
ficult to make this faithful and grim retainer talk.
Even Jim himself was answered in jerky short sentences,
under protest as it were. Talking, he seemed to imply,
was no business of his. The longest speech I heard him
volunteer was one morning when, suddenly extending
his hand towards the courtyard, he pointed at Cornelius
and said, *Here comes the Nazarene.' I don't think he
was addressing me, though I stood at his side; his object

LORD JIM 285

seemed rather to awaken the indignant attention of the
universe. Some muttered allusions, which followed, to
dogs and the smell of roast-meat, struck me as singularly
felicitous. The courtyard, a large square space, was
one torrid blaze of sunshine, and, bathed in intense
light, Cornelius was creeping across in full view with
an inexpressible effect of stealthiness, of dark and secret
slinking. He reminded one of everything that is un-
savoury. His slow laborious walk resembled the creep-
ing of a repulsive beetle, the legs alone moving with
horrid industry while the body glided evenly. I sup-
pose he made straight enough for the place where he
wanted to get to, but his progress with one shoulder
carried forward seemed oblique. He was often seen
circling slowly amongst the sheds, as if following a scent;
passing before the verandah with upward stealthy
glances ; disappearing without haste round the comer of
some hut. That he seemed free of the place demon-
strated Jim's absurd carelessness or else his infinite dis-
dain, for Cornelius had played a very dubious part (to
say the least of it) in a certain episode which might have
ended fatally for Jim. As a matter of fact, it had re-
dounded to hi§L^lory. But everything redounded to
his glory uini^t was the irony of his good fortune that
he, who had been too careful of it once, seemed to bear a
charmed life.

"You must know he had left Doramin's place very
soon after his arrival — ^much too soon, in fact, for his
eafety, and of course a long time before the war. In
this he was actuated by a sense of duty; he had to look
after Stein's business, he said. Hadn't he? To that
end, with an utter disregard of his personal safety, he
crossed the river and took up his quarters with Cor-
nelius. How the latter had managed to exist through
the troubled times I can't say. As Stein's agent, after

^

286 LORD JIM

all, he must have had Doramm's protection in a meas-
ure; and in one way or another he had managed to
wriggle through all the deadly complications, while I
have no doubt that his conduct, whatever line he was
forced to take, was marked by that abjectness which
was like the stamp of the man. That was his charac-
teristic; he was fundamentally and outwardly abject, as

r / other men are markedly of a generous, distinguished, or
y venerable appearance. It was the element of his

Ni^ nature which permeated all his acts and passions and
emotions; he raged abjectly, smiled abjectly, was
abjectly sad; his civilities and his indignations were
alike abject. I am sure his love would have been the
most abject of sentiments — ^but can one imagine a
loathsome insect in love? And his loathsomeness, too,
was abject, so that a simply disgusting person would
have appeared noble by his side. He has his place
neither in the background nor in the foreground of the
story; he is simply seen skulking on its outskirts, enig-
matical and unclean, tainting the fragrance of its youth
and of its nalveness.

"His position in any case could not have been other
than extremely miserable, yet it may very well be that
he found some advantages in it. Jim told me he had
been received at first with an abject display of the most
amicable sentiments. *The fellow apparently couldn't
contain himself for joy,' said Jim with disgust. *He
flew at me every morning to shake both my hands — con-
found him ! but I could never tell whether there would
be any breakfast. If I got three meals in two days I
considered myself jolly lucky, and he made me sign a
chit for ten dollars every week. Said he was sure Mr.
Stein did not mean him to keep me for nothing. Well —
he kept me on nothing as near as possible. Put it down
to the unsettled state of the country, and made as if to

LORD JIM 287

tear his hair out, begging my pardon twenty times a day,
so that I had at last to entreat him not to worry. It
made me sick. Half the roof of his house had fallen in,
and the whole place had a mangy look, with wisps of
dry grass sticking out and the corners of broken mats
flapping on every wall. He did his best to make out
that Mr. Stein owed him money on the last three years*
trading, but his books were all torn, and some were
missing. He tried to hint it was his late wife's fault.
Disgusting scoundrel! At last I had to forbid him to
mention his late wife at all. It made Jewel cry. I
couldn't discover what became of all the trade-goods;
there was nothing in the store but rats, having a high
old time amongst a litter of brown paper and old sack-
ing. I was assured on every hand that he had a lot of
money buried somewhere, but of course could get noth-
ing out of him. It was the most miserable existence I
led there in that wretched house. I tried to do my duty
by Stein, but I had also other matters to think of.
When I escaped to Doramin old Tunku Allang got
frightened and returned all my things. It was done in
a roundabout way, and with no end of mystery, through
a Chinaman who keeps a small shop here; but as soon as
I left the Bugis quarter and went to live with Cor-
nelius it began to be said openly that the Rajah had
made up his mind to have me killed before long. Pleas-
ant, wasn't it? And I couldn't see what there was to
prevent him if he really had made up his mind. The
worst of it was, I couldn't help feeling I wasn't doing
any good either for Stein or for myself. Oh! it was
beastly — the whole six weeks of it.' "

CHAPTER THIRTY

''He told me further that he didn't know what made
hang on — but of course we may guess. He sym-
pathised deeply with the defenceless giri, at the mercy
of that 'mean, cowardly scoundrel/ It appears Cor-
nelius led her an awful life, stopping only short of actual
ill-usage, for which he had not the pluck, I suppose.
He insisted upon her calling him father — 'and with
respect, too — with respect,' he would scream, shaking a
little yellow fist in her face. 'I am a respectable man,
and what are you? Tell me — ^what are you? You
think I am going to bring up somebody else's child and
not to be treated with respect? You ought to be glad I
let you. Come — say Yes, father. . . . No? . . . You
wait a bit.* Thereupon he would begin to abuse the
dead woman, till the girl would run off with her hands
to her head. He pursued her, dashing in and out and
round the house and amongst the sheds, would drive her
into some comer, where she would fall on her knees
stopping her ears, and then he would stand at a dis-
tance and declaim filthy denunciations at her back for
half an hour at a stretch. 'Your mother was a devil, a
deceitful devil — and you, too, are a devil,* he would
shriek in a final outburst, pick up a bit of dry earth or a
handful of mud (there was plenty of mud around the
house), and fling it into her hair. Sometimes, though,
she would hold out full of scorn, confronting him in
silence, her face sombre and contracted, and only now
and then uttering a word or two that would make the
other jump and writhe with the sting. Jim told me

288

LORD JIM 289

these scenes were terrible. It was indeed a strange
thing to come upon in a wilderness. The endlessness of
such a subtly cruel situation was appalling — ^if you
think of it. The respectable Cornelius (Inchi 'Nelyus
the Malays called him, with a grimace that meant many
things) was a much-disappointed man. I don't know
what he had expected would be done for him in con-
sideration of his marriage; but evidently the liberty to
steal, and embezzle, and appropriate to himself for
many years and in any way that suited him best, the
goods of Stein's Trading Company (Stein kept the
supply up unfalteringly as long as he could get his
skippers to take it there) did not seem to him a fair
equivalent for the sacrifice of his honourable name.
Jim would have enjoyed exceedingly thrashing Cor-
nelius within an inch of his life; on the other hand, the
scenes were of so painful a character, so abominable,
that his impulse would be to get out of earshot, in order
to spare the girl's feelings. They left her agitated,
speechless, clutching her bosom now and then with a
stony, desperate face, and then Jim would lounge up and
say unhappily, *Now — come — ^really — ^what's the use —
you must try to eat a bit,' or give some such mark of
sympathy. Cornelius would keep on slinking through
the doorways, across the verandah and back again, as
mute as a fish, and with malevolent, mistrustful, under-
hand glances. 'I can stop his game,' Jim said to her
once. *Just say the word.' And do you know what
she answered? She said — Jim told me impressively —
that if she had not been sure he was intensely wretched
himself, she would have found the courage to kill him
with her own hands. *Just fancy that! The poor
devil of a girl, almost a child, being driven to talk like
that,' he exclaimed in horror. It seemed impossible to
save her not only from that mean rascal but even from

290 LORD JIM

herself! It wasn't that he pitied her so much, he
affirmed; it was more than pity; it was as if he had some-
thing on his conscience, while that life went on. To
leave the house would have appeared a base desertion.
He had understood at last that there was nothing to
expect from a longer stay, neither accounts nor money,
nor truth of any sort, but he stayed on, exasperating
Cornelius to the verge, I won't say of insanity, but
almost of courage. Meantime he felt all sorts of
dangers gathering obscurely about him. Doramin had
sent over twice a trusty servant to tell him seriously
that he could do nothing for his safety unless he would
recross the river again and live amongst the Bugis as at
first. People of every condition used to call, often in
the dead of night, in order to disclose to him plots for
his assassination. He was to be poisoned. He was to
be stabbed in the bath-house. Arrangements were
being made to have him shot from a boat on the river.
Each of these informants professed himself to be his
very good friend. It was enough — ^he told me — to
spoil a fellow's rest for ever. Something of the kind
was extremely possible — ^nay, probable — ^but the lying
warnings gave him only the sense of deadly scheming
going on all around him, on all sides, in the dark.
Nothing more calculated to shake the best of nerve.
Finally, one night, Cornelius himself, with a great
apparatus of alarm and secrecy, unfolded in solemn
wheedling tones a little plan wherein for one hundred
dollars — or even for eighty; let's say eighty — ^he, Cor-
nelius, would procure a trustworthy man to smuggle
Jim out of the river, all safe. There was nothing else
for it now — ^if Jim cared a pin for his life. What's
eighty dollars? A trifle. An insignificant sum. While
he, Cornelius, who had to remain behind, was absolutely
courting death by his proof of devotion to Mr. Stein's

k

LORD JIM 291

young friend. The sight of his abject grimacing was —
Jim told me — ^very hard to bear: he clutched at his hair,
beat his breast, rocked himself to and fro with his hands
pressed to his stomach, and actually pretended to shed
tears. * Your blood be on your own head/ he squeaked
at last, and rushed out. It is a curious question how far
Cornelius was sincere in that performance. Jim con-
fessed to me that he did not sleep a wink after the fellow
had gone. He lay on his back on a thin mat spread
over the bamboo flooring, trying idly to make out the
bare rafters, and listening to the rustlings in the torn
thatch. A star suddenly twinkled through a hole in the
roof. His brain was in a whirl ; but, nevertheless, it was
on that very night that he matured his plan for over-
coming Sherif Ali. It had been the thought of all the
moments he could spare from the hopeless investigation
into Stein's affairs, but the notion — ^he says — came to
him then all at once. He could see, as it were, the guns
mounted on the top of the hill. He got very hot and
excited lying there; sleep was out of the question more
than ever. He jumped up, and went out barefooted on
the verandah. Walking silently, he came upon the
girl, motionless against the wall, as if on the watch.
In his then state of mind it did not surprise him to see
her up, nor yet to hear her ask in an anxious whisper
where Cornelius could be. He simply said he did not
know. She moaned a little, and peered into the
campong. Everything was very quiet. He was pos-
sessed by his new idea, and so full of it that he could not
help telling the girl all about it at once. She listened,
clapped her hands lightly, whispered softly her ad-
miration, but was evidently on the alert all the time.
It seems he had been used to make a confidante of her
all along — and that she on her part could and did give
him a lot of useful hints as to Fatusan affairs there is no

\

292 LORD JIM

doubt. He assured me more than once that he had
never found himself the worse for her advice. At any
rate, he was proceeding to explain his plan fully to her
there and then, when she pressed his arm once, and
vanished from his side. Then Cornelius appeared from
somewhere, and, perceiving Jim, ducked sideways, as
though he had been shot at, and afterwards stood very
still in the dusk. At last he came forward prudently,
like a suspicious cat. 'There were some fishermen
there — with fish,* he said in a shaky voice. *To sell
fish — ^you understand.' ... It must have been
then two o'clock in the morning — ^a likely time for any-
body to hawk fish about!

""Jim, however, let the statement pass, and did not
give it a single thought. Other matters occupied his
mind, and besides he had neither seen nor heard any-
thing. He contented himself by saying, * Oh ! ' absently,
got a drink of water out of a pitcher standing there, and
leaving Cornelius a prey to some inexplicable emotion —
that made him embrace with both arms the worm-eaten
rail of the verandah as if his legs had failed — went in
again and lay down on his mat to think. By-and-by
he heard stealthy footsteps. They stopped. A voice
whispered tremulously through the wall, *Are you
asleep?' *No! What is it?' he answered, briskly, and
there was an abrupt movement outside, and then all
was still, as if the whisperer had been startled. Ex-
tremely annoyed at this, Jim came out impetuously,
and Cornelius with a faint shriek fled along the verandah
as far as the steps, where he hung on to the broken
banister. Very puzzled, Jim called out to him from
the distance to know what the devil he meant. *Have
you given your consideration to what I spoke to you
about?' asked Cornelius, pronouncing the words with
diflSculty, like a man in the cold fit of a fever. *No!*

LORD JIM 293

shouted Jim in a passion. *I did not, and I don't in-
tend to. I am going to live here, in Patusan.' *You
shall d-d-die h-h-here/ answered Cornelius, still shaking
violently, and in a sort of expiring voice. The whole
performance was so absurd and provoking that Jim
didn't know whether he ought to be amused or angry.
*Not till I have seen you tucked away, you bet,' he
called out, exasperated yet ready to laugh. Half
seriously (being excited with his own thoughts, you

know) he went on shouting, * Nothing can touch mej

Yqu can do your damnedest.' Somehow the shadowy >/ .
/Cornelius far off there seemed to be the hateful em- 7 ^ s
/ bodiment of all the annoyances and difficulties he had^/ ^
/ found in his path. He let himself go — ^his nerves had (^^
^-'^een over-wrought for days — ^and called him many
pretty names, — swindler, liar, sorry rascal: in fact,
carried on in an extraordinary way. He admits he
passed all bounds, that he was quite beside himself —
defied all Patusan to scare him away — declared he
would make them all dance to his own tune yet, and
so on, in a menacing, boasting strain. Perfectly bom-
bastic and ridiculous, he said. His ears burned at the
bare recollection. Must have been off his chump in
some way. . . . The girl, who was sitting with us,
nodded her little head at me quickly, frowned faintly,
and said, *I heard him,' with childlike solemnity. He
laughed and blushed. TVhat stopped him at last, he
said, was the silence, the complete deathlike silence, of
the indistinct figure far over there, that seemed to hang
collapsed, doubled over the rail in a weird immobility.
He came to his senses, and ceasing suddenly, wondered
greatly at himself. He watched for a while. Not a
stir, not a sound. * Exactly as if the chap had died
while I had been making all that noise,' he said. He was
so ashamed of himself that he went indoors in a hurry

294 LORD JIM

without another word, and flung himself down again.
The row seemed to have done him good though, be-
cause he went to sleep for the rest of the night like a
baby. Hadn't slept like that for weeks. 'But / didn't
sleep/ struck in the girl, one elbow on the table and
nursing her cheek. 'I watched.' Her big eyes flashed,
rolling a little, and then she fixed them on my face
intently."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"You may imagine with what interest I listened.
All these details were perceived to have some signifi-
cance twenty-four hours later. In the morning Cor-
nelius made no allusion to the events of the night. ^I
suppose you will come back to my poor house/ he
muttered, surlily, slinking up just as Jim was entering
the canoe to go over to Doramin's campong. Jim only
nodded, without looking at him. * You find it good fun,
no doubt/ muttered the other in a sour tone. Jim
spent the day with the old naJehoday OTSg^ingthe
n ecessity ^f y^fnmiia fl/*[f'nn to the principal men of the
Bugis community, who had been siunmoned for a big
talk. He remembered with pleasure how very eloquent
and persuasive he had been. *I managed to put some
backbone into them that time, and no mistake,' he said.
Sherif All's last raid had swept the outskirts of the
settlement, and some women belonging to tibe town had
been carried off to the stockade. Sherif All's emissaries
had been seen in the market-place the day before,
strutting about haughtily in white cloaks, and boasting
of the Rajah's friendship for their master. One of
them stood forward in the shade of a tree, and, leaning
on the long barrel of a rifle, exhorted the people to
prayer and repentance, advising them to kill all the
strangers in their midst, some of whom, he said, were
infidels and others even worse — children of Satan in the
guise of Moslems. It was reported that several of the
Rajah's people amongst the listeners had loudly ex-
pressed their approbation. The terror amongst the

995

296 LORD JIM

common people was intense. Jim, immensely pleased
with his day's work, crossed the river again before sun-

''As he had got the Bugis irretrievably committed to
action and had made himself responsible for success on
his own heady he was so elated that in the lightness of
his heart he absolutely tried to be civil with Cornelius.
But Cornelius became wildly jovial in response^ and it
was almost more than he could standi he says, to hear
his little squeaks of false laughter, to see him wriggle and
blink, and suddenly catch hold of his chin and crouch
low over the table with a distracted stare. The girl did
not show herself, and Jim retired early. When he rose
to say good-night, Cornelius jumped up, knocking his
chair over, and ducked out of sight as if to pick up some-
thing he had dropped. His good-night came huskily
from under the table. Jim was amazed to see him
emerge out with a dropping jaw, and staring, stupidly
frightened eyes. He clutched the edge of the table.
'What's the matter? Are you unwell?* asked Jim.
*Yes, yes, yes. A great colic in my stomach,' says the
other; and it is Jim's opinion that it was perfectly true.
If so, it was, in view of his contemplated action, an
abject sign of a still imperfect callousness for which he
must be given all due credit.

"Be it as it may, Jim's slumbers were disturbed by a
dream of heavens like brass resounding with a great
voice, which called upon him to Awake! Awake! so
loud that, notwithstanding his desperate determination
to sleep on, he did wake up in reality. The glare of a
red spluttering conflagration going on in mid-air feU on
his eyes. Coils of black thick smoke ciu^ed round the
head of some apparition, some unearthly being, all in
white, with a severe, drawn, anxious face. After a
Mcond or so he recognised the girl. She was holding

LORD JIM 397

a dammar torch at arm's-length aloft, and in a per-
sistent, urgent monotone she was repeating, 'Get up!
Get up! Get up!'

^* Suddenly he leaped to his feet; at once she put into
his hand a revolver, his own revolver, which had been
hanging on a nail, but loaded this time. He gripped it
in silence, bewildered, blinkmg m the Kght. He won-
dered what he could do for her.

"She asked rapidly and very low, *Can you face four
men with this?' He laughed while narrating this part
at the recollection of his polite alacrity. It seems he
made a great display of it. * Certainly — of course —
certainly — command me.' He was not properly awake,
and had a notion of being very civil in these extraor- ^jkV«*^
dinary circumstances, of showing his unquestioning,*^
devoted readi ness. She left the room, and he followed
her; in tllTpasshge they disturbed an old hag who did
the casual cooking of the household, though she was so
decrepit as to be hardly able to understand human
speech. She got up and hobbled behind them, mum-
bling toothlessly. On the verandah a hammock of sail-
cloth, belonging to Cornelius, swayed lightly to the
touch of Jim's elbow. It was empty.

"The Patusan establishment, like all the posts of
Stein's Trading Company, had originally consisted of
four buildings. Two of them were represented by two
heaps of sticks, broken bamboos, rotten thatch, over
which the four comer-posts of hardwood leaned sadly at
different angles: the principal storeroom, however,
stood yet, facing the agent's house. It was an oblong
hut, built of mud and clay: it had at one end a wide
door of stout planking, which so far had not come off the
hinges, and in one of the side walls there was a square
aperture, a sort of window, with three wooden bars.
Before descending the few steps the girl turned her face

298 LORD JIM

over her shoulder and said quickly, *You were to be
set upon while you slept/ Jim tells me he experienced
a sense of deception. It was the old story. He was
weary of these attempts upon his life. He had had his
fill of these alarms. He was sick of them. He assured
me he was angry with the girl for deceiving him. He
had followed her under the impression that it was she
who wanted his help, and now he had half a mind to
turn on his heel and go back in disgust. 'Do you
know/ he commented, profoundly, *I rather think I
was not quite myself for whole weeks on end about that
time.' *0h, yes. You were though,' I couldn't help
contradicting.

"But she moved on swiftly, and he followed her into
the courtyard. All its fences had fallen in a long time
ago; the neighbours' buffaloes would pace in the
morning across the open space, snorting profoundly,
without haste; the very jungle was invading it already.
Jim and the girl stopped in the rank grass. The light
in which they stood made a dense blackness all round,
and only above their heads there was an opulent glitter
of stars. He told me it was a beautiful night — quite
cool, with a little stir of breeze from the river. It seems
he noticed its friendly beauty. Remember this is a
love-story I am telling you now. A lovely night that
seemed to breathe on them a soft caress. The flame of
the torch streamed now and then with a fluttering noise
like a flag, and for a time this was the only sound.
'They are in the storeroom waiting,' whispered the girl;
* they are waiting for the signal.' ' Who's to give it ? ' he
asked. She shook the torch, which blazed up after a
shower of sparks. 'Only you have been sleeping so
restlessly,' she continued in a murmur. *I watched
your sleep, too.' 'You!' he exclaimed, craning his
neck to look about him. 'You think I watched on this

LORD JIM 299

night only!' she said, with a sort of despairing indig-
nation.

*'He says it was as if he had received a blow on the
chest. He gasped. He thought he had been an awfid
brute somehow, and he felt remorseful, touched, happy,
elated. This, let me remind you again, is a love story;
you can see it by the imbecility, not a repulsive imbe-
cility, the exalted imbecility of these proceedings, this
station in torchlight, as if they had come there on
purpose to have it out for the edification of concealed
murderers. If Sherif AJi's emissaries had been pos-
sessed — ^as Jim remarked — of a pennyworth of spunk,
this was the time to make a rush. His heart was thump-
ing — not with fear — ^but he seemed to hear the grass
rustle, and he stepped smartly out of the light. Some-
thing dark, imperfectly seen, flitted rapidly out of sight.
He called out in a strong voice, * Cornelius! O Cor-
nelius!' A profound silence succeeded: his voice did
not seem to have carried twenty feet. Again the girl
was by his side. 'Fly!' she said. The old woman was
coming up; her broken figure hovered in crippled little
jumps on the edge of the light; they heard her mum-
bling, and a light, moaning sigh, 'fly!' repeated the
girl, excitedly. 'They are frightened now — this light — .
the voices. They know you are awake now — ^they
know you are big, strong, fearless . . .' *If I am
all that,' he began, but she interrupted him. *Yes —
to-night! But what of to-morrow night? Of the next
night? Of the night after — of all the many, many
nights? Can I be always watching? ' A sobbing catch
of her breath affected him beyond the power of words. I

''He told me that he had never felt so small, so I
powerless — and as to courage, what was the good of I
it? he thought. He was so helples s that even flight I
seemed of no use; and though she kept on whispering, I

\

800 LORD JIM

'Go to Doramin^ go to Doramin/ with feverish in-
sistence, he realised that for him there was no refuge
from that loneliness which centupled all his dangers
except — ^in her. *I thought/ he said to me, 'that if I
went away from her it would be the end of everything
somehow/ Only as they couldn't stop there for ever
in the middle of that courtyard, he made up his mind to
go and look into the storehouse. He let her follow him
without thinking of any protest, as if they had been
indissolubly united. 'I am fearless — am I?' he mut-
tered through his teeth. She restrained his arm.
*Wait till you hear my voice,' she said, and, torch in
hand, ran lightly round the comer. He remained alone
in the darkness, his face to the door: not a sound, not a
breath came from the other side. The old hag let out a
dreary groan somewhere behind his back. He heard
a high-pitched almost screaming call from the girl.
*Now! Push!' He pushed violently; the door swung
with a creak and a clatter, disclosing to his intense
astonishment the low dungeon-like interior illuminated
by a lurid, wavering glare. A turmoil of smoke eddied
down upon an empty wooden crate in the middle of the
floor, a litter of rags and straw tried to soar, but only
stirred feebly in the draught. She had thrust the light
through the bars of the window. He saw her bare
round arm extended and rigid, holding up the torch
with the steadiness of an iron bracket. A conical
ragged heap of old mats cumbered a distant comer
almost to the ceiling, and that was all.

"He explained to me that he was bitterly dis-
appointed at this. His fortitude had been tried by so
many warnings, he had been for weeks surrounded by so
many hints of danger, that he wanted the relief of some
reality, of something tangible that he could meet. *It
would have cleared the air for a couple of hours at least,

LORD JIM 801

if you know what I mean/ he said to me. *Jove! I
had been living for days with a stone on my chest.*
Now at last he had thought he would get hold of some-
thing, and — nothing! Not a trace, not a sign of any-
body. He had raised his weapon as the door flew open,
but now his arm fell. *Fire! Defend yourself,* the
girl outside cried in an agonising voice. She, being in
the dark and with her arm thrust in to the shoulder
through the small hole, couldn't see what was going on,
and she dared not withdraw the torch now to run
round. *There*s nobody here!* yelled Jim, contemptu-
ously, but his impulse to burst into a resentful ex-
asperated laugh died without a sound : he had perceived
in the very act of turning away that he was exchanging
glances with a pair of eyes in the heap of mats. He saw
a shifting gleam of whites. *Come out!* he cried in a
fury, a little doubtful, and a dark-faced head, a head
without a body, shaped itself in the rubbish, a strangely
detached head, that looked at him with a steady scowl.
Next moment the whole mound stirred, and with a low
grunt a man emerged swiftly, and bounded towards
Jim. Behind him the mats as it were jumped and flew,
his right arm was raised with a crooked elbow, and the
dull blade of a kris protruded from his fist held off, a
little above his head. A cloth wound tight round his
loins seemed dazzlingly white on his bronze skin; his
naked body glistened as if wet.

"Jim noted all this. He told me he was experiencing
a feeling of unutterable relief, of vengeful elation. He
held his shot, he says, deliberately. He held it for the
tenth part of a second, for three strides of the man — an
unconscionable time. He held it for the pleasure of
saying to himself. That's a dead man! He was
absolutely positive and certain. He let him come on
because it did not matter. A dead man, anyhow. He

302 LORD JIM

noticed the dilated nostrils, the wide eyes, the intent,
eager stiUness of the face, and then he fired.

''The explosion in that confined space was stunning.
He stepped back a pace. He saw the man jerk his head
up, fling his arms forward, and drop the kris. He
ascertained afterwards that he had shot him through
the mouth, a little upwards, the bullet coming out high
at the back of the skull. With the impetus of his rush
the man drove straight on, his face suddenly gaping
disfigured, with his hands open before him gropingly, as
though blinded, and landed with terrific violence on his
forehead, just short of Jim's bare toes. Jim says he
didn't lose the smallest detail of all this. He found
himself calm, appeased, without rancour, without un-
easiness, as if the death of that man had atoned for
everything. The place was getting very full of sooty
smoke from the torch, in which the unswaying fiame
burned blood-red without a flicker. He walked in
resolutely, striding over the dead body, and covered
with his revolver another naked figure outlined vaguely
at the other end. As he was about to pull the trigger,
the man threw away with force a short heavy spear,
and squatted submissively on his hams, his badk to the
wall and his clasped hands between his legs. 'You
want your life? ' Jim said. The other made no sound.
'How many more of you?' asked Jim again. 'Two
more, Tuan,' said the man very softly, looking with
big fascinated eyes into the muzzle of the revolver.
Accordingly two more crawled from under the mats,
holding out ostentatiously their empty hands."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

''Jim took up an advantageous position and shep-
herded them out in a bunch through the doorway: all
that time the torch had remamed vertical m the grip of a
little hand, without so much as a tremble. The three
men obeyed him, perfectly mute, moving automaticaUy.
He ranged them in a row. *Link arms!' he ordered.
They did so. * The first who withdraws his arm or turns
his head is a dead man,' he said. * March!' They
stepped out together, rigidly; he followed, and at the
side the girl, in a traiUng white gown, her black hair
falling as low as her waist, bore the light. Erectand
swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth;
the only sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long
grass. 'Stop!' cried Jim.

"The river-bank was steep; a great freshness as-
cended, the light fell on the edge of smooth dark water
frothing without a ripple; right and left the shapes of the
houses ran together below the sharp outlines of the
roofs. 'Take my greetings to Sherif Ali — till I come
myselfyl said Jim. Not one head of the three budged.
'^'QumpJ^he thundered. The three splashes made one
splash, a shower flew up, black heads bobbed con-
vulsively, and disappeared; but a great blowing and
spluttering went on, growing f amt, for they were diving
industriously in great fear of a parting shot. Jim
turned to the girl, who had been a silent and attentive
observer. His heart seemed suddenly to grow too big
for his breast and choke him in the hollow of his throat.
This probably made him speechless for so long, and after

808

;^;

S04 LORD JIM

returning his gaze she flung the burning torch with a

, wide sweep of the arm into the river. The ruddy fiery

' Vv glare» taking a long flight through the night, sank with a

yiSVA vicious hiss, and the calm soft starlight descended upon

V them, unchecked.

^'He did not tell me what it was he said when at last
he recovered his voice. I don^t suppose he could be
very eloquent. The world was still, the night breathed
on them, one of those nights that seem created for the
sheltering of tenderness, and there are moments when
our souls, as if freed from their dark envelope, glow
with an exquisite sensibility that makes certain silences
more lucid than speeches. As to the girl, he told me,
*She broke down a bit. Excitement — don't you know.
Reaction. Deucedly tired she must have been — and
all that kind of thing. And — and — ^hang it all — she
was fond of me, don't you see. ... I, too . . .
didn't know, of course . . . never entered my
head.

"There he got up and began to walk about in some
agitation. *I — ^I love her dearly. More than I could
tell. Of course one cannot tell. You take a different
view of your actions when you come to understand,
when you are made to understand every day that your
existence is necessary — you see, absolutely necessary —
to another person. I am made to feel that. Wonder-
ful. But only try to think what her life had been. It is
too extravagantly awful! Isn't it? And me finding
her here like this — as you may go out for a stroll and
come suddenly upon somebody drowning in a lonely
dark place. Jove! No time to lose. Well, it is a
trust, too ... I believe I am equal to it. . . .'
f^ "I must tell you the girl had left us to ourselves some
time before. He slapped his chest. * Yes ! I feel that,
but I believe I am equal to all my luck ! ' He had the

LORD JIM 805

gift of finding a special meaning in everything that
happened to him. This was the view he took of his
love-affair; it was idyllic, a little solemn, and also true,
since his belief had all the unshakable seriousness of
youth. Some time after, on another occasion, he said
to me, *IVe been only two years here, and now, upon my
word, I can't conceive being able to live anywhere else.
The very thought of the world outside is enough to give
me a fright; because, don't you see,' he continued, with
downcast eyes watching the action of his boot busied in
squashing thoroughly a tiny bit of dried mud (we were
strolling on the river-bank) — * because I have not for-
gotten why I came here. Not yet!'

"I refrained from looking at him, but I think I heard
a short sigh; we took a turn or two in silence. 'Upon
my soul and conscience,' he began again, 'if such a
thing can be forgotten, then I think I have a right
to dismiss it from my mind. Ask anjr man here* . . .
his voice changed. *Is it not strange,' he went on in a
gentle, almost yearning tone, 'that all these people, all
these people who would do anything for me, can never
be made to understand? Never! If you disbelieve
me I could not call them up. It seems hard, somehow.
I am stupid, am I not? What more can I want? If
you ask them who is brave — who is true — who is just —
who is it they would trust with their lives? — they would
say, Tuan Jim. And yet they can never know the
real, real truth. . . '

"That's what he said to me on my last day with him.
I did not let a murmur escape me: I felt he was going
to say more, and come no nearer to the root of the
matter. The sun, whose concentrated glare dwarfs the
earth into a restless mote of dust, had sunk behind the
forest, and the diffused light from an opal sky seemed
to cast upon a world without shadows and without

«

806 LORD JIM

brilliance the illusion of a calm and pensive greatness.
I don't know why, listening to him» I should have noted
so distinctly the gradual darkening of the river, of the
air; the irresistible slow work of the night settling
sflently on all the visible forms, effacmg the outlines,
burying the shapes deeper and deeper, like a steady fall
of impalpable black dust.

"*Jove!* he b^^, abruptly, * there are days when a
fellow is too absurd for anything; only I know I can tell
you what I like. I talk about being done with it — with
the bally thing at the back of my head. • • . For-
getting. • • • Hang me if I know! I can think of it
quietly. After all, what has it proved? Nothing. I
suppose you don't think so. • • .'
I made a protesting murmur.
No matter,' he said. ^I am satisfied • • •
nearlyy Tve got to look only at the face of the first man
that comes along, to regain my confidence. They
can't be made to understand what is going on in m'e.
What of that? Come! I haven't done so badly.'
Not so badly,* I said.

'But all the same, you wouldn't like to have me
aboard your own ship — ^hey?'

" * Confound you ! ' I cried. * Stop this.'

" * Aha! You see,' he cried, crowing, as it were, over me
placidly. *Only,' he went on, *you just try to tell this to
any of them here. They would think you a fool, a liar,
or worse. And so I can stand it. I've done a thing or
two for them, but this is what they have done for me.'

" *My dear chap,' I cried, *you shall always remain for
them an insoluble mystery.' Thereupon we were silent.

"* Mystery,' he repeated, before looking up. *Well,
then let me always remain here.'

"After the sun had set, the darkness seemed to drive
upon us, borne in every faint puflF of the breeze. In the

LORD JIM 307

middle of a hedged path I saw the arrested^ gaunt,
watchful, and apparently one-legged silhouette of "^
Tamb* Itam; and across the dusky space my eye de-
tected something white moving to and fro behind the
supports of the roof. As soon as Jim, with Tamb' Itam
at his heels, had started upon his evening rounds, I went
up to the house alone, and, unexpectedly, found myself
waylaid by the girl, who had been clearly waiting for
this opportunity.

"It is hard to tell you what it was precisely she
wanted to wrest from me. Obviously it would be
something very simple-the simplest impossibihty in
the world; as, for instance, the exact description of the
form of a cloud. She wanted an assurance, a statement,
a promise, an explanation — ^I don^t know how to call itj^,^^
the thing has no name. It was dark imder the pi^o^
jecting roof, and all I could see were the flowing lines
of her gown, the pale small oval of her face, with the
white flash of her teeth, and, turned towards me, the
big sombre orbits of her eyes, where there seemed to be a | ^ ,
faint stir, such as you may fancy you can detect when
you plunge your gaze to the bottom of an immense!;^ _J ?
deep well. ^SJ^at is jUJ^at moves there? you ask y^^
self. Is it ^blind inonst^ or only a lost gleam from the
universe? it occurred to me--don*t laugh — ^that^all^
things being dissimilar^she was more inscrutable in her
childish ignorance than the Sphinx propounding child-
ish riddles to wayfarers. She had been carried off to
Patusan before her eyes were open. She had grown up
there; she had seen nothing, she had known nothing,
she had no conception of anything. I ask jojrsell
whether she were sure that anything else existed! What
notions she may have formed of the outsiderworld is to
me inconceivable: all that she knew of its inhabitants
were a betrayed woman and a sinister pantaloon. Her

\

\:

S08 LORD JIM

lover also came to her from there^ gifted with irresistible
seductions; but what would become of her if he should
return to these inconceivable regions that seemed always
to claim back their own? Her mother had warned her
of this with tears, before she died. . . .

*^She had caught hold of my arm firmly » and as soon
as I had stopped she had withdrawn her hand in haste.
She was audacious and shrinkiiig^^e feared nothing,
but she was checked by the profound incertitude and
the extreme strangeness— a brave person groping in the
dark. I belonged to this Unl^ gwn that might claim
. ^im for its own at imy Si^SS^ I was, as it were, in
V \ the secret of its nature and of its intentions; — ^the con-
^ fidant of a threatening myatCTy;— a™ed with its
c^^ power perhaps! I believe she supposed I could with a
word whisk Jim away out of her very arms; it is my
sober convictio^ she went through agonies of appre-
hefnsion during my long talks with Jim; through a real
/ and intolerable ^nguish that might have conceivably
■ driven her into plotting my murder, had the fierceness
of her soul been equal to the tremendous situation it had
created. This is my impression, and it is all I can give
you: the whole thing dawned gradually upon me, and
as it got clearer and clearer I was overwhelmed by a
slow incredulous amazement. She made me believe
her, but there is no word that on my lips could render
the eflPect of the headlong and vehement whisper, of the
soft, passionate tones, of the sudden breathless pause
and the appealing movement of the white arms extended
swiftly. They fell; the ghostly figure swayed like a
slender tree in the wind, the pale oval of the face
drooped; it was impossible to distinguish her features,
the darkness of the eyes was unfathomable; two wide
sleeves uprose in the dark like unfolding wings, and she
stood silent, holding her head in her hands."

s

f

, ;'« -'-^

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"I WAS immensely touched: her youth, her ignorance,
her pretty beauty, which had the simple charm and the
delicate vigour of a wild-flower, her pathetic pleading,
her helplessness, appealed to me with almost the
st]:^ngth of her own unreasonable and natiural fear.^
)h^ feared the imknown as we all /^^, ^rx^J^^ jgn^yoT%/u>
made the unknown infinitely vast*^MrS^jSc2t> for /
myself, for you fellows, for all the world that neither^ /
cared for Jim nor needed hirn m^J^Jeasi* I would
Lave been ready enoiigh^to answer for the indifference
of the teeming earth but for the reflection that he, too,
belonged to this mysterious imknown of her fears, and
that, however much I stood for, I did not stand for him.
This made me hesitate. A murmur of hopeless pain
unsealed my lips. I began by protesting that I at
least had come with no intention to take Jim away.

"Why did I come, then? After a slight movement
she was as still as a marble statue in the night. I tried
to explain briefly: friendship, business; if I had any
wish in the matter it was rather to see him stay. • • •
*They always leave us,* she murmiured. The breath
of sad wisdom from the grave which her piety wreathed
with flowers seemed to pass in a faint sigh. • . •
Nothing, I said, could separate Jim from her.

"It is my firm conviction now; it was my conviction
at the time; it was the only possible conclusion from the
facts of the case. It was not made more certain by her
whispering in a tone in which one speaks to oneself,
*He swore this to me.* *Did you ask him?* I said.

809

■•1 ■ \ ^ f

J<^. J

/

J 9-

/ /r*. -^ . r

SIO LORD JIM

"She made a step nearer. *No. Never!* She had
asked him only to go away. It was that night on the
river-bank, after he had killed the man — after she had
flung the torch in the water because he was looking at
her so. There was too much light, and the danger was
over then — ^for a little time — ^for a little time. He said
then he would not abandon her to Cornelius. She had
insisted. She wanted him to leave her. He said that
he could not — ^that it was impossible. He trembled
while he said this. She had felt him tremble. . • .
One does not require much imagination to see the scene,
ahnostto hear then- whispers. She was afraid for him,
r ioQiJ I ISelieve that then she saw in him only a pre-
\ destined victim of dangers which she understood
\ better than himself. Though by nothing but his mere
y^^ptesence he had mastered her heart, had filled all her
thoughts, and had possessed himself of all her affections,
she under-estimated his chances of success. It is
obvious that at about that time everybody was inclined
to under-estimate his chances. Strictly speaking he
didn't seem to have any. I know this was Cornelius's
view. He confessed that much to me in extenuation of
the shady part he had played in Sherif Ali's plot to do
away with the infidel. Even Sherif Ali himself, as it
seems certain now, had nothing but contempt for the
white man. Jim was to be murdered mainly on re-
ligious grounds, I believe. A simple act of piety (and
so far infinitely meritorious), but otherwise without
much importance. In the last part of this opinion
Cornelius concurred. * Honourable sir,* he argued
abjectly on the only occasion he managed to have me
to himself — * Honourable sir, how was I to know? Who
was he? What could he do to make people believe him?
What did Mr. Stein mean sending a boy like that to
talk big to an old servant? I was ready to save him for

LORD JIM 811

eighty dollars. Only eighty dollars. Why didn't the
fool go? Was I to get stabbed myself for the sake of a
stranger?* He grovelled in spirit before me, with his
body doubled up insinuatingly and his hands hovering
about my knees, as though he were ready to embrace
my legs. * What's eighty dollars? An insignificant
sum to give to a defenceless old man ruined for life by a
deceased she-devil/ Here he wept. But I anticipate.
I didn't that night chance upon Cornelius till I had had
it out with the girl.

"She was unselfish when she urged Jim to leave her,
and even to leave the country. It was his danger that
was foremost in her thoughts — even if she wanted to
save herself, too — ^perhaps unconsciously : ^but then look
at the warning she had, look at the lesson that could be
drawn from every moment of the recently ended life in
which all her memories were centred. She fell at his
feet — she told me so — there by the river, in the dis-
creet light of stars which showed nothing except great
masses of silent shadows, indefinite open spaces, and
trembling faintly upon the broad stream made it appear
as wide as the sea. He had lifted her up. He lifted her
up, and then she would struggle no more. Of course
not. Strong arms, a tender voice, a stalwart shoulder
to rest her poor lonely little head upon. The need — the
infinite need — of all this for the aching heart, for the
bewildered mind; — ^the promptings of youth — ^the ne-
cessity of the moment. What would you have? One
understands — unless one is incapable of understanding
anything imder the sun. And so she was content to be
lifted up — and held. *You know — ^Jove! this is seri-
ous — ^no nonsense in it!' as Jim had whispered hurriedly
with a troubled concerned face on the threshold of his
house. I don't know so much about nonsense, but
there was nothing lighthearted in their romance: they

812 LORD JIM

came together under the shadow of a life's disaster, like
knight and maiden meeting to exchange vows amongst
haimted ruins. The starlight was good enough for that
story, a light so faint and remote that it cannot resolve
shadows into shapes, and show the other shore of a
stream. I did look upon the stream that night and
from the very place; it rolled silent and as black as
Styx: the next day I went away, but I am not likely to
forget what it was she wanted to be saved from when
she entreated him to leave her while there was time.
She told me what it was, calmed — she was now too
passionately interested for mere excitement — in a voice
as quiet in the obscurity as her white half-lost figure.
She told me, ^I didn't want to die weeping.' I thought
I had not heard aright.

"*You did not want to die weeping?' I repeated after
her. *Like my mother,' she added readily. The out-
lines of her white shape did not stir in the least. 'My
mother had wept bitterly before she died,' she ex-
plained. An inconceivable calmness seemed to have
risen from the ground around us, imperceptibly, like the
still rise of a flood in the night, obliterating the familiar
landmarks of emotions. There came upon me, as
though I had felt myself losing my footing in the midst
of waters, a sudden dread, the dread of the unknown
depths. She went on explaining that, during the last
moments, being alone with her mother, she had to leave
the side of the couch to go and set her back against the
door, in order to keep Cornelius out. He desired to get
in, and kept on drumming with both fists, only de-
sisting now and again to shout huskily, *Let me in!
Let me in! Let me in!' In a far corner upon a few
mats the moribund woman, already speechless and un-
able to lift her arm, rolled her head over, and with a
feeble movement of her hand seemed to command —

LORD JIM SIS

^No! No!' and the obedient daughter, setting her
shoulders with all her strength against the door, was
looking on. *The tears fell from her eyes — and then
she died,' concluded the girl in ^BJaEgturbable mono-
tone, which more than anything else, morelhan the
white statuesque immobility of her person, more than
mere words could do, troubled my mind profoundly with
the passive, irremediable horror of the scene. It haJ^
the pca ger to drive me ou t of my conception of existence,
out of that ^Iter eacETof us makes for himself to creep
under in moments of danger, as a tortoise withdraws
within its shell. For a moment I had a view of a world
that seemed to wear a vast and dismal aspect of dis- .
order, while, in truth, thanks to our unwearied efforts, f
it is as sunny an arrangement of small conveniences as I
the mind of man can conceive. But still — it was only I
a moment: I went back into my shell directly. On^
must — don't you know? — ^though I seemed to have lost
all my words in the chaos of dark thoughts I had con-
templated for a second or two beyond the pale. These '
came back, too, very soon, for words alsoTBelohg to the
sheltering conception of light and order which is our
refuge. I had them ready at my disposal before she
whispered softly, *He swore he woidd never leave me, )
when we stood there alone ! He swore to me ! ' . . . /
*And is it possible that you — ^you! do not believe him?' /
I asked, sincerely reproachful, genuinely shocked. Why
couldn't she believe? Wherefore this craving for
incertitude, this clinging to fear, as if incertitude and
fear had been the safeguards of her lover^^K was
monstrous. She should have made for hersdf a shelter
ormexpugnable peace out of that honest affection. She
had not the knowledge — ^not the skill perhaps. The
night had come on apace; it had grown pitch-dark where
we were, so that without stirring she had faded like the

^

f^

■'f ^

intangible fonn of a wistful and perverse spirit. Jlnd
suddenly I heard her quiet whisper again, ^ O ther men
had awopi the same thin g/ It was like a meditative
comment on some thoughts full of sadness, of awe.
And she added, still lower if possible, 'My father did.'
She paused the time to draw an inaudible breath. ' Her
father, too.* . . . These were the things she knew!
At once I said, * Ah! but he is not like that .* This, it
seemed, she did not intend to dispute; but after a time
the strange still whisper wandering dreamily in the air
stole into my ears. * Why is he diflPerent ? Is he better?
Is he . . / 'Upon my word of honour,*^! broke m,
* I believe he is. * We subdued our tones to a mysterious
pitch! Amongst the huts of Jim's workmen (they were
mostly liberated slaves from the Sherif 's stockade) some-
body started a shrill, drawling song. Across the river a
big fire (at Doramin's, I think) made a glowing ball,
completely isolated in the night. *Is he more true?*
she murmured. *Yes,* I said. ^M ore true than an y
o ther man .* she repeated in lingering accents. *No
body here,* I said, * would dream of doubting his word —
nobody would dare — except you.*

"I think she made a movement at this. *More
brave,* she went on in a changed tone. 'Fear shall
never drive him away from you,* I said a little nerv-
ously. The song stopped short on a shrill note, and
was succeeded by several voices talking in the distance.
Jim*s voice, too. I was struck by her silence. *What
has he been telling you? He has been telling you some-
thing?* I asked. There was no answer. *What is it
he told you?* I insisted.

" *Do you think I can tell you? How am I to know?
How am I to understand? * she cried at last. There was
a stir. I believe she was wringing her hands. * There is
v^omething^e can never forget.* n

\ LORD JIM 316

/

ii

*So much the fcetter for you/ I said, gloomily.

*What is it? iWhat is it?' She put an extraor-l
dinary force of appeal into her supplicating tone. *He '
says he had been S afraid. How can I beHeve this?
Am I a mad womai^ to believe this? You all remember

something! You all go back to it. What is it? You
tell me! What is jthis thing? Is it alive? — ^is it dead?
I hate it. It is c^el. Has it got a face and a voice
this calamity? Will he see it — will he hear it?
his sleep perhaps when he cannot see me — ^and then
arise and go. jAhl I shall never forgive him. My
mother had forgiven — ^but I, never! Will it be a sign —
a call?' 7 /^

"'It was a ^ronderful experience, ffh** m^'°*^!y*H hifl
very. slumltKazi^aJid she seemed to think I could tell her
why! (Thus a poor mortal seduced by the charm of an
apparition might have tried to wring from another
ghost the tremendous secret of the claim the other world
holds over a disembodied soul astray amongst the /
of thi» earth./ The^vSy ground on wliich T

^

passions of thi» earthy TJie^vSy ground
stood"~segaied to meltunder my feet. And it was so
simple, too; but if the spirits evoked by our fears and
our unrest have ever to vouch for each other's con-
stancy before the forlorn magicians that we are, then
I — ^I alone of us dwellers in the flesh — ^have shuddered
in the hopeless chill of such a task. A sign, a call!
How telling in its expression was her ignorance. A few
words ! How she came to know them, how she came.ts^
pronounce them, I can't imagingjuyWdmen find their
inspiration in the stress <^ moments that for us are
mjgreljMwfiili ahsiu: d> or futile J T^ discover that she

! had(a y{^ at aU .w^TSoSlii^ strike awe into the
/ heart. ! Had a spumed stone cried but m pain it could

"not have appeared a greater and more pitiful miracle.
These few sounds wandering in the dark had made their

1 « J, v.

S16 LORD JIM

two benighted lives tragic to my mind. It was im-
possible to make her understand. I chafed silently at
my impotence. And Jim, too — ^poor devil! Who
would need him? Who would remember him? He
had what he wanted. His very existence probably had
been forgotten by this time. They had mastered their
fates. They were tragic.

"Her immobility before me was clearly expectant,
and my part was to speak for my brother from the
realm of forgetful shades. I was deeply moved at my
responsibility and at her distress. I would have given
anything for the power to soothe her frail soul, tor-
menting itself in its invincible ignorance like a small
beating about the cruel wires of a cage. Nothing
easier thjinto say, Have no fear! Nothing more
difficulU H»w f ^oftfi nng kill f^Af^ I wonder? How
do you shoot a spectre through th^ heart, slash off its
spectra] head, take it by its spectral throat? It is an
enterprise youj!Ush into while you dream, and are glad
to make your escape with wet hair and every limb
shaMng^C The bullet is not run, the blade not forged,
the man not bom ; even the winged words of truth drop
at your feet like lumps of lead. You require for such a
desperate encounter an enchanted and poisoned shaft
di pped in a lie too subtle t o hpt foimH on ftarth. An
pjit^rp riae for a dream, mv masters!

"I began my exorcism with a heavy heart, with a sort
of sullen anger in it, too. Jim's voice, suddenly raised
with a stem intonation, carried across the courtyard,
reproving the carelessness of some dumb sinner by the
river-side. Nothing — ^I said, speaking in a distinct
murmur — ^there could be nothing, in that unknown
world she fancied so eager to rob her of her happiness,
there was nothing neither living nor dead, there was no
face, no voice, no power, that could tear Jim from her

LORD JIM 317

side. I drew breath and she whispered softly, *He told
me so/ *He told you the truth/ I said. * Nothing/
she sighed out, and abruptly turned upon me with a
barely audible intensity of tone: *Why did you come
to us from out there? He speaks of you too often.
You make me afraid. Do you — do you want him?*
A sort of stealthy fierceness had crept into our hurried
mutters. *I shall never come again/ I said, bitterly.
*And I don't want him. No one wants him.' *No
one,* she repeated in a tone of doubt. *No one,* I
affirmed, feeling myself swayed by some strange
excitement. *You think him strong, wise, courageous,
great — why not believe him to be true, too? I shall go
to-morrow — ^and that is the end. You shall never be
troubled by a voice from there again. This world you
don't know is too big to miss him. You understand?
Too big. YouVe got his heart in your hand. You
must feel that. You must know that.* *Yes, I know
that,' she breathed out, hard and still, as a statue might
whisper.

^'I felt I had done nothing. And what is it that I had
wished to do? I am not siu^ now. At the time I was
animated by an inexplicable ardour, as if before some
great and necessary task — ^the influence of the moment
upon my mental and emotional state. There are in aB^
our lives such moments, such influences, coming from /
the outside, as it were, irresistible, incomprehensible — /
as if brought about by the mysterious conjunctions ol-^
the planets. She owned, as I had put it to her, his
heart. She had that and everything else — if she could
only believe it. What I had to tell her was that in the'^
whole world there was no one who ever would need his
heart, his mind, his hand. It was a common fate, and
yet it seemed an awful thing to say of any man. f SEe^
listened without a word, and her stillness now was like

818 LORD JIM

the protest of an invincible unbelief. What need she
care for the world beyond the forests? I asked. From
all the multitudes that peopled the vastness of that
unknown there would come, I assured her, as long as he
lived, neither a call nor a sign for him. Never. I was
carried away. Never! Never! I remember with
wonder the sort of dogged fierceness I displayed. I had
the illusion of having got the spectre by the throat at
last. Indeed the whole real thing has left behind the
detailed and amazing impression of a dream. Why
should she fear? She knew him to be strong, true, wise,
brave. He was all that. Certainly. He was more.
He was great— invmcible— and the world did not want
him, it had foigotten him, it would not even know him.
^^I stopped; the silence over Patusan was profound,
and the feeble dry soimd of a paddle striking Uie side of
a canoe somewhere m the middle of the river seemed to
make it infinite. *Why?* she murmured. I felt that
sort of rage one feels during a hard tussle. The spectre
was trying to slip out of my grasp. *Why?* she re-
peated louder; 'tell me!' And as I remained con-
foimded, she stamped with her foot like a spoilt child.
*Why? Speak.' *You want to know?' I asked in a
fury. *Yes!' she cried. * Because he is not good
enough,' I said, brutally. During the moment's pause
I noticed the fire on the other shore blaze up, dilating
the circle of its glow like an amazed stare, and contract
suddenly to a red pin-point. I only knew how close to
me she had been when I felt the clutch of her fingers on
my forearm. Without raising her voice, she threw into
it an infinity of scathing contempt, bitterness, and
despair.

is the very thing he said. . . . You K g!

last two words she cried at me in the native

Hear me out!' I entreated; she caught her

despair.
/ r "'Thisi
Vf \ / "Thelai
Af ^dialect. ']

LORD JIM 819

breath tremulously, flung my arm away. *Nobody,
nobody is good enough/ I b^an with the greatest
earnestness. I could hear the sobbing labour of her
breath frightfully quickened. I hung my head. What
was the use? Footsteps were approaching; I slipped
away without another word. . ."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Marlow swung his legs out, got up quickly, and
staggered a little, as though he had been set down after
a rush through space. He leaned his back against the
balustrade and faced a disordered array of long cane-
chairs. The bodies prone in them seemed startled out
of their torpor by his movement. One or two sat up as
if alarmed; here and there a cigar glowed yet; Marlow
looked at them all with the eyes of a man returning
from the excessive remoteness of a dream. A throat was
cleared; a calm voice encouraged negligently, "Well."

"Nothing," said Marlow with a slight start. "He
had told her — that's all. She did not believe him —
nothing more. As to myself, I do not know whether
it be just, proper, decent for me to rejoice or to be sorry.
For my part, I cannot say what I believed — indeed I
don't know to this day, and never shall probably. But
what did the poor devil believe himself? Truth shall
prevail — don't you know Magna est Veritas et . . ,
Yes, when it gets a chance. There is a law, no doubt —
and likewise a law regulates your luck in the throwing
of dice. It is not Justice the servant of men, but
accident, hazard. Fortune — the ally of patient Time —
that holds an even and scrupulous balance. Both of
us had said the very same thing. Did we both speak the
truth — or one of us did — or neither? . . ."

Marlow paused, crossed his arms on his breast, and
in a changed tone —

<<i

She said we lied. Poor soul. Well — ^let's leave
it to Chance, whose ally is Time that cannot be hurried,

820

• -- . ^

LORD JIM 321

and whose enemy is Death, that will not wait. I had
retreated — a little cowed, I must own. I had tried
a fall with fear itself and got thrown — of course. I
had only succeeded in adding to her anguish the hint
of some mysterious collusion, of an inexplicable and
incomprehensible conspiracy to keep her for ever in the
dark. And it had come easily, naturally, unavoidably,
by his act, by her own act ! It was as though I Tiad^^
been shown the working of the implacable destiny^of
which we are the victims — ^and the tools/^ Jt^ was ap-
palling to think of the giri whom I had left standing
there motionless; Jim's footsteps had a fateful sound
as he tramped by, without seeing me, in his heavy
laced boots. *What? No lights!' he said in a loud,
surprised voice. *What are you doing in the dark-—
you two?' Next moment he caught sight of her, I
suppose. 'Hallo, girl!' he cried, cheerily. 'Hallo,
boy ! ' she answered at once, with amazing pluck.

"This was their usual greeting to each other, and
the bit of swagger she would put into her rather high
but sweet voice was very droll, pretty, and childlike.
It delighted Jim greatly. This was the last occasion
on which I heard them exchange this famUiar hail,
and it struck a chill into my heart. There was the
high sweet voice, the pretty effort, the swagger; but
it all seemed to die out prematurely, and the playful
call sounded like a moan. It was too confoundedly
awful. * What have you done with Marlow? ' Jim was
asking; and then, *Gone down — ^has he? Funny I
didn't meet him. . . . You there, Marlow?'

"I didn't answer. I wasn't going in — ^not yet at
any rate. I really couldn't. While he was calling
me I was engaged in making my escape through a
little gate leading out upon a stretch of newly cleared
ground. No; I coiddn't face them yet. I walked

S22 LORD JIM

hastily with lowered head along a trodden path. The
ground rose gently, the few big trees had been felled, the
undergrowth had been cut down and the grass fired.
He had a mind to try a coffee-plantation there. The
big hill, rearing its double summit coal-black in the
clear yellow glow of the rising moon, seemed to cast its
shadow upon the groimd prepared for that experiment.
He was going to try ever so many experiments; I had
admired his energy, his enterprise, and his shrewdness.
Nothing on earth seemed less real now than his plans, his
energy, and his enthusiasm; and raising my eyes, I saw
part of the moon glittering through the bushes at the
bottom of the chasm. For a moment it looked as
though the smooth disc, falling from its place in the sky
upon the earth, had rolled to the bottom of that preci-
pice: its ascending movement was like a leisurely re-
boimd; it disengaged itself from the tangle of twigs; the
bare contorted limb of some tree, growing on the slope,
made a black crack right across its face. It threw its
level rays afar as if from a cavern, and in this mournful
eclipse-like light the stumps of felled trees uprose very
dark, the heavy shadows fell at my feet on all sides, my
own moving shadow, and across my path the shadow
of the solitary grave perpetually garlanded with flowers.
In the darkened moonlight the interlaced blossoms took
on shapes foreign to one's memory and colours in-
definable to the eye, as though they had been special
flowers gathered by no man, grown not in this world,
and destined for the use of the dead alone. Their
powerful scent hung in the warm air, making it thick
and heavy like the fumes of incense. The lumps of
white coral shone round the dark mound like a chaplet
of bleached skulls, and everything around was so quiet
that when I stood still all sound and all movements in
the world seemed to come to an end.

LORD JIM 823

*^It was a great peace, as if the earth had been one I
grave, and for a time I stood there thinking mostly of
the living who, buried in remote places out of the
knowledge of mankind, still are fated to share in its
tragic or grotesque miseries. In its noble struggles,
too — who knows? The human heart is vast enough
to contain all the world. It is valiant enough to bear
the burden, but where is the coiurage that would cast /
it off?

^^I suppose I must have fallen into a sentimental
mood; I only know that I stood there long enough for
the sense of utter solitude to get hold of me so com-
pletely that all I had lately seen, all I had heard, and
the very human speech itself, seemed to have passed
away out of existence, living only for a while longer
in my memory, as though I had been the last of man-
kind. It was a strange and melancholy illusion,
evolved half -consciously like all o ur illusio ns, which
suspect only to be visions of remote imattamable truth^
seen dimly. This was, indeed, one of the lost, forgotten,
unkaosnuplaces of the earth ;^fiad looked under its
-o^e«;fe] arirrfelraiiit when to-morrow I had
left it for ever, it would slip out of existence, to live
only m my memory tiU I myself passed into obUvion.
I have that feeling about me now; perhaps it is that feet
ing which has i^^^H?^ ^^ ^^ ^*^^^ 7^" *^^ °^'

/ /

hand over to you, as it were, its very existence, its
reality — the truth disclosed in a moment of illusion .

" ComelTus bfUktt lipon it. )de bolted out, vermin^
like, from the long grass growing in a depression of the
groimd. I believe his house was rotting somewhere
near by, though IVe never seen it, not having been far
enough in that direction. He ran towards me upon the
path; his feet, shod in dirty white shoes, twinkled on the
dark earth: he pulled himself up, and began to whine

rS

S24 LORD JIM

and cringe under a tall stove-pipe hat. His dried-up
little carcass was swallowed up, totally lost, in a suit of
black broadcloth. That was his costume for holidays
and ceremonies, and it reminded me that this was the
fourth Sunday I had spent in Fatusan. All the time of
my stay I had been vaguely aware of his desire to con-
fide in me, if he only could get me all to himself. He
hung about with an eager craving look on his sour
yellow little face; but his timidity had kept him back as
much as my natural reluctance to have anything to do
with such an unsavoiuy creature. He would have
succeeded, nevertheless, had he not been so ready to
slink off as soon as you looked at him. He would slink
off before Jim's severe gaze, before my own, which I
tried to make indifferent, even before Tamb' Itam's
surly, superior glance. He was perpetually slinking
away; whenever seen he was seen moving off de-
viously, his face over his should^, with either a mis-
trustful snarl or a woe-begone, piteous, mute aspect;
but no assumed expression could conceal this innate
irremediable abjectness of his nature, any more than
an arrangement of clothing can conceal some monstrous
deformity of the body.

"I don't know whether it was the demoralisation
of my utter defeat in my encounter with a spectre of
fear less than an hour ago, but I let him capture me
without even a show of resistance^^T was doomed to be
the recipient of confidences, and to be confronted with
unanswerable questions. It was trying; but the con-
tempt, the unreasoned contempt, the man's appearance
provoked, made it easier to bear. He couldn't possibly
matter. Nothing mattered, since I had made up my
^ /mind that Jim, for whom alone I cared, had at last
mastCT ed hisjate. He had told me he was satisfied . . .
nearly^ THSs is going further than most of us dare.

LORD JIM 335

I — who have the right to think my self good enough — dare
not. Neither does any of you here, I suppose? . . •"

Marlow paused, as if expecting an answer. Nobody
spoke.

"'Quite right/' he began again. ""Let no soul know,
since the truth can be wrung out of us only by some
cruel, little, awful catastrophe. But he^_onejrfjis^
and he could say he was satisfied • • • nearly.
Just fancy this! Nearly satisfied. One could almost
envy him his catastrophe. Nearly satisfied. After
this nothing could matter. It did not matter who
suspected him, who trusted him, who loved him, who
hated him — especially as it was Cornelius who hated him.

""Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You
shall judge of a man by his foes as well as by his friends,
and this enemy of Jim was such as no decent man would
be ashamed to own, without, however, making too much
of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I
shared; but Jim disregarded him on general grounds.
"My dear Marlow,' he said, "I feel that if I go straight
nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have
been long enough here to have a good look round — and,
frankly, don't you think I am pretty safe? It all de-
pends upon me, and, by Jove ! I have lots of confidence
in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to
kill me, I suppose. I don't think for a moment he
would. He couldn't, you know — not if I were myself to
hand him a loaded rifle for the purpose, and then turn
my back on him. That's the sort of thing he is. And
suppose he would — suppose he could? Well — what of
that? I didn't come here flying for my life — did I?
I came here to set my back against the wall, and I am
going to stay here . . .'

Till you are quite satisfied,' I struck in.
We were sitting at the time under the roof in the

S26 LORD JIM

stem of his boat; twenty paddles flashed like one, ten on
a side, striking the water with a single splash, while be-
hind our backs Tamb* Itam dipped silently right and
left, and stared right down the river, attentive to keep
the long canoe in the greatest strength of the current.
Jim bowed his head, and our last talk seemed to flicker
out for good. He was seeing me ofl? as far as the mouth
of the river. The schooner had left the day before,
working down and drifting on the ebb, while I had pro-
longed my stay overnight. And now he was seeing
me off.

"Jim had been a little angry with me for mentioning
Cornelius at all. I had not, in truth, said much. The
man was too insignificant to be dangerous, though he
was as full of hate as he could hold. He had called
me 'honourable sir* at every second sentence, and had
whined at my elbow as he followed me from the grave
of his 'late wife* to the gate of Jim's compound. He
declared himself the most unhappy of men, a victun,
crushed like a worm; he entreated me to look at him.
I wouldn't turn my head to do so; but I could see
out of the comer of my eye his obsequious shadow
gliding after mine, whUe the moon, suspended on our
right hand, seemed to gloat serenely upon the spectacle.
He tried to explain — as I've told you — ^his share in the
events of the memorable night. It was a matter of
expediency. How could he know who was going to get
the upper hand? *I would have saved him, honourable
sir! I would have saved him for eighty dollars,' he
protested in dulcet tones, keeping a pace behind me.
*He has saved himself,* I said, *and he has forgiven you.*
I heard a sort of tittering, and turned upon him ; at once
he appeared ready to take to his heels. *What are
you laughing at?' I asked, standing still. * Don't
be deceived, honourable sir!* he shrieked, seemingly

LORD JIM 327

losing all control over his feelings. ^He save himself!
He knows nothing, honourable sir — ^nothing whatever.
Who is he? What does he want here — ^the big thief?
What does he want here? He throws dust into every-
body's eyes; he throws dust into your eyes, honourable
sir; but he can't throw dust into my eyes. He is a big
fool, honourable sir/ I laughed contemptuously, and,
turning on my heel, began to walk on again. He rm
up to my elbow and whispered forcibly, *He's no more
than a little child here — ^like a little child — a little child.*
Of course I didn't take the slightest notice, and seeing
the time pressed, because we were approaching the
bamboo fence that glittered over the blackened ground
of the clearing, he came to the point. He commenced
by being abjectly lachrymose. His great misfortunes
had aflfected his head. He hoped I would kindly forget
what nothing but his troubles made him say. He
didn't mean anything by it; only the honourable sir
did not know what it was to be ruined, broken down,
trampled upon. After this introduction he approached
the matter near his heart, but in such a rambling,
ejaculatory, craven fashion, that for a long time I
couldn't make out what he was driving at. He wanted
me to intercede with Jim in his favour. It seemed, too,
to be some sort of money affair. I heard time and
again the words, * Moderate provision — suitable pres-
ent.' He seemed to be claiming value for something,
and he even went the length of saying with some warmth
that life was not worth having if a man were to be
robbed of everything. I did not breathe a word, of
course, but neither did I stop my ears. The gist of the
affair, which became clear to me gradually, was in this,
that he regarded himself as entitled to some money in
exchange for the girl. He had brought her up. Some-
body else's child. Great trouble and pains — old man

828 LORD JIM

now — suitable present. If the honourable sir would
say a word. ... I stood still to look at him with
curiosity, and fearful lest I should think him extortion-
ate, I suppose, he hastily brought himself to make a
concession. In consideration of a 'suitable present'
given at once, he would, he declared, be willing to under-
take the charge of the girl, 'without any other pro-
vision—when the tune came for the gentleman to go
home.' His little yellow face, all crumpled as though
it had been squeezed together, expressed the most
anxious, eager avarice. His voice whined coaxingly, * No
more trouble — ^natural guardian — a sum of money. . . .'
''I stood there and marvelled. That kind of thing,
with him, was evidently a vocation. I discovered
suddenly in his cringing attitude a sort of assurance, as
though he had been all his life dealing in certitudes. He
must have thought I was dispassionately considering his
proposal, because he became as sweet as honey. 'Every
gentleman made a provision when the time came to go
home,' he began, insinuatingly. I slammed the Uttle
gate. *In this case, Mr. Cornelius,' I said, 'the time
shall never come.' He took a few seconds to gather
this in. 'What!' he fairly squealed. 'Why,' I con-
tinued from my side of the gate, 'haven't you heard
him say so himself? He will never go home.' 'Oh!
this is too much,' he shouted. He would not address
me as 'honoured sir' any more. He was very still
for a time, and then without a trace of humility began
very low. 'Never go — ah! He — ^he — ^he comes here
devil knows from where — comes here — devil knows
why — ^to trample on me till I die — ah — ^trample' (he
stamped softly with both feet), 'trample like this — ^no-
body knows why — ^till I die. . . .' His voice be-
came quite extinct; he was bothered by a little cough;
he came up close to the fence and told me, dropping

LORD JIM 329

into a confidential and piteous tone, that he would not
be trampled upon. * Patience — ^patience/ he muttered,
striking his breast. I had done laughing at him, but
unexpectedly he treated me to a wild cracked burst of it.
*Ha! ha! ha! We shall see! We shall see! What!
Steal from me? Steal from me everything! Every-
thing! Everything!' His head drooped on one shoulder,
his hands were hanging before him lightly clasped.
One would have thought he had cherished the girl with
surpassing love, that his spirit had been crushed and
his heart broken by the most cruel of spoliations. ^ *^^
Suddenly he lifted his head and shot out an infamous
word. *Like her mother — she is like her deceitful
mother, Exactly. In her face, too. In her face. The\
^evil!' He leaned his forehead against the fence, and^
in that position uttered threats and horrible blasphemies
in Portuguese in very weak ejaculations, mingled with
miserable plaints and groans, coming out with a heave
of the shoulders as though he had been overtaken by a
deadly fit of sickness. It was an inexpressibly grotesque
and vile performance, and I hastened away. He tried
to shout something after me. Some disparagement of
Jim, I believe — not too loud though, we were too near
the house. All I heard distinctly was, *No more than a^
little child— a little child.' " ^

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

«'

But next mommg» at the first bend of the river
shutting off the houses of Fatusan, all this dropped
out of my sight bodily, with its colour, its design, and
its meaning, like a picture created by fancy on a canvas,
upon which, after long contemplation, you turn your
back for the last time. It remains in the memory
motionless, unfaded, with its life arrested, in an un-
changing light. There are the ambitions, the fears, the
hate, the hopes, and they remain in my mind just as I
had seen them — ^intense and as if for ever suspended in
their expression. I had turned away from the picture
and was going back to the world where events move,
men change, light flickers, life flows in a clear stream, no
matter whether over mud or over stones. I wasn't go-
ing to dive into it; I would have enough to do to keep
my head above the surface. But as to what I was leav-
ing behind, I cannot imagine any alteration. The
immense and magnanimous Doramin and his little
motherly witch of a wife, gazing together upon the land
and nursing secretly their dreams of parental ambition;
Tunku Allang, wizened and greatly perplexed; Dain
Waris, intelligent and brave, with his faith in Jim, with
his firm glance and his ironic friendliness; the girl,
absorbed in her frightened, suspicious adoration;
Tamb* Itam, surly and faithful; Cornelius, leaning his
forehead against the fence under the moonlight — I am
certain of them. They exist as if under an enchanter's
wand. But the figure round which all these are grouped
— ^that one lives, and I am not certain of him. No

830

LORD JIM 381

magician's wand can immobilise him under my eyes.
He is one of us.

"Jim, as iVe told you, accompanied me on the first
stage of my journey back to the world he had renounced,
and the way at times seemed to lead through the very
heart of untouched wilderness. The empty reaches
sparkled under the high sun; between the high walls of
vegetation the heat drowsed upon the water, and the
boat, impelled vigorously, cut her way through the air
that seemed to have settled dense and warm under the
shelter of lofty trees.

"'The shadow of the impending separation had
already put an immense space between us, and when
we spoke it was with an effort, as if to force our low
voices across a vast and increasing distance. The boat
fairly flew; we sweltered side by side in the stagnant
superheated air; the smell of mud, of marsh, the
primeval smell of fecund earth, seemed to sting our
faces; till suddenly at a bend it was as if a great hand
far away had lifted a heavy curtain, had flung open an
immense portal. The light itself seemed to stir, the
sky above our heads widened, a far-off murmur reached
our ears, a freshness enveloped us, filled our lungs,
quickened our thoughts, our blood, our regrets — ^and,
straight ahead, the forests sank down against the dark-
blue ridge of the sea.

"I breathed deeply, I revelled in the vastness of the
opened horizon, in the different atmosphere that seemed
to vibrate with a toil of life, with the energy of an im-
peccable world. This sky and this sea were open to
me. The girl was right — there was a sign, a call in
them — something to which I responded with every
fibre of my being. I let my eyes roam through space,
like a man released from bonds who stretches his
cramped limbs, runs, leaps, responds to the inspiring

SS2 LORD JIM

elation of freedom. ^This is glorious!' I cried, and
then I looked at the sinner by my side. He sat with
his head sunk on his breast and said ^Yes/ without
raising his eyes, as if afraid to see writ large on the clear
sky of the offing the reproach of his romantic conscience.
^'I remember the smallest details of that afternoon.
We landed on a bit of white beach. It was backed by a
low cliflF wooded on the brow, draped in creepers to the
very foot. Below us the plain of the sea, of a serene
and intense blue, stretched with a slight upward tilt to
the thread-like horizon drawn at the height of our eyes.
Great waves of gUtter blew lightly along the pitted dark
surface, as swift as feathers chased by the breeze. A
chain of islands sat broken and massive facing the wide
estuary, displayed in a sheet of pale glassy water re-
flecting faithfully the contour of the shore. High in
the colourless sunshine a solitary bird, all black,
hovered, dropping and soaring above the same spot with
a slight rocking motion of the wings. A ragged, sooty
bunch of flimsy mat hovels was perched over its own
inverted image upon a crooked multitude of high piles
the coloiu* of ebony. A tiny black canoe put off from
amongst them with two tiny men, all black, who toiled
exceedingly, striking down at the pale water: and the
canoe seemed to slide painfully on a mirror. This
bunch of miserable hovels was the fishing village that
boasted of the white lord's especial protection, and the
two men crossing over were the old headman and his
son-in-law. They landed and walked up to us on the
white sand, lean, dark-brown a^ if dried in smoke, with
ashy patches on the skin of their naked shoulders and
breasts. Their heads were bound in dirty but carefully
folded handkerchiefs, and the old man began at once to
state a complaint, voluble, stretching a lank arm,
screwing up at Jim his old bleared eyes confidently.

LORD JIM 333

The Rajah's people would not leave them alone; there
had been some trouble about a lot of turtles' eggs his
people had collected on the islets there — and leaning at
arm's-length upon his paddle, he pointed with a brown
skinny hand over the sea. Jim listened for a time with-
out looking up, and at last told him gently to wait. He
would hear him by-and-by. They withdrew obediently
to some little distance, and sat on their heels, with their
paddles lying before them on the sand; the silvery
gleams in their eyes followed our movements patiently;
and the inmiensity of the outspread sea, the stillness of
the coast, passing north and south beyond the limits of
my vision, made up one colossal Presence watching us
four dwarfs isolated on a strip of glistening sand.

"*The trouble is,' remarked Jim, moodily, *that for
generations these b^gars of fishermen in that village
there had been considered as the Rajah's personal slaves
— and the old rip can't get it into his head that . . .*

"He paused. *That you have changed all that,' I
said.

"'Yes. I've changed all that,' he muttered in a
gloomy voice.

"*You have had your opportimity,' I pursued.

" 'Had I? ' he said. 'Well, yes. I suppose so. Yes.
I have got back my confidence in myself — a good name-
yet sometimes I wish . . . No ! I shall hold what
I've got. Can't expect anything more.' He flung his
arm out towards the sea. 'Not out there anyhow.' He
stamped his foot upon the sand. ' This is my limit, be-
cause nothing less will do.'

"We continued pacing the beach. 'Yes, I've
changed all that,' he went on, with a sidelong glance
at the two patient squatting fishermen; 'but only try to
think what it would be if I went away. Jove ! can't you
see it? Hell loose. No! To-morrow I shall go and

334 LORD JIM

take my chance of drinking that silly old Tunku Allang's
coffee, and I shall make no end of fuss over these rotten
turtles' eggs. No. I can't say — enough. Never. I
must go on, go on for ever holding up my end, to feel
sure that nothing can touch me. I must stick to their
belief in me to feel safe and to — ^to' . . • He cast
about for a word, seemed to look for it on the sea • • .
^to keep in touch with' • • • His voice sank sud-
denly to a murmur • • . 'with those whom, per-
haps, I shall never see any more. With — ^with — ^you,
for instance.'

"I was profoundly humbled by his words. Tor
God's sake,' I said, Mon't set me up, my dear fellow;
just look to yourself.' I felt a gratitude, an affection,
for that straggler whose eyes had singled me out, keep-
ing my place in the ranks of an insignificant multitude.
How little that was to boast of, after all ! I turned my
burning face away; under the low sun, glowing, dark-
ened and crimson, like an ember snatched from the fire,
the sea lay outspread, offering all its immense stillness to
the approach of the fiery orb. Twice he was going to
speak, but checked himself: at last, as if he had found a
formula —

"*I shall be faithful,' he said, quietly. *I shall be
faithful,' he repeated, without looking at me, but for
the first time letting his eyes wander upon the waters,
whose blueness had changed to a gloomy purple under
the fires of sunset. Ah! he was romantic, romantic.
il recalled some words of Stein's. ... 'In the
^^ ^ destructive element immerse ! ... To follow the
dream, and again to follow the dream — ^and so — always
— usque ad finem . . .' He was romantic, but
n one th e les s true . Who could tell what forms, what
vSonsTVhat faces, what forgiveness he could see in
the glow of the west! ... A small boat, leaving

/

LORD JIM 385

the schooner, moved slowly, with a regular beat of two
oars, towards the sandbank to take me off. 'And then
there's Jewel/ he said, out of the great silence of earth,
sky, and sea, which had mastered my very thoughts so
that his voice made me start. 'There's Jewel.' * Yes,'
I murmured. 'I need not tell you what she is to me,' he
pursued. 'You've seen. In time she will come to
understand . . .* 'I hope so,' I interrupted. 'She
trusts me, too,' he mused, and then changed his tone.
'When shall we meet next, I wonder?' he said.

" 'Never — ^unless you come out,' I answered, avoiding
his glance. He didn't seem to be surprised; he kept
very quiet for a while.

^ 'G f ood by e^-lhgn,' he said, after a* pause. 'Perhaps Jf
it's just as well.*

"We shook hands, and I walked to the boat, which
waited with her nose on the beach. The schooner,
her mainsail set and jib-sheet to windward, curveted on
the purple sea; there was a rosy tinge on her sails.
'Will you be going home again soon?' asked Jim, just as
I swung my leg over the gunwale. 'In a year or so if I
live,' I said. The forefoot grated on the sand, the boat
floated, the wet oars flashed and dipped once, twice.
Jim, at the water's edge, raised his voice. 'Tell
them . . .' he began. I signed to the men to
cease rowing, and waited in wonder. Tell who?
The half -submerged sun faced him; I could see its red
gleam in his eyes that looked dumbly at me. • . .
'No — nothing,' he said, and with a slight wave of his
hand motioned the boat away. I did not look again
at the shore till I had clambered on board the schooner.

"By that time the sun had set. The twilight lay
over the east, and the coast, turned black, extended
infinitely its sombre wall that seemed the very strong-
hold of the night; the western horizon was one great

336 LORD JIM

blaze of gold and crimson in which a big detached cloud
floated dark and still, casting a slaty shadow on the
water beneath, and I saw Jim on the beach watching
the schooner fall off and gather headway.

"'The two half -naked fishermen had arisen as soon
as I had gone; they were no doubt pouring the plaint
of their trifling, miserable, oppressed Uves into the
ears of the white lord, and no doubt he was listening to
it, making it his own, for was it not a part of his luck —
the luck *from the word Go' — ^the luck to which he had
assured me he was so completely equal? They, too, I
should think, were in luck, and I was sure their perti-
nacity would be equal to it. Their dark-skinned bodies
vanished on the dark background long before I had lost
sight of their protector. He was white from head to
foot, and remained persistently visible with the strong-
hold of the night at his back, the sea at his feet, the
opportunity by his side — still veiled. What do you
say? Was it still veiled? I don't know. For me that
whit^ figure in the stillness of coast and sea seemed to
stand at the heart of a vast enigma. The twilight was
ebbing fast from the sky above his head, the strip of
sand had sunk already under his feet, he himself ap-
peared no bigger than a child — ^then only a speck, a tiny
white speck, that seemed to catch all the light left in a
darkened world. . . . And, suddenly, I lost him. . . ."

/

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

With these words Marlow had ended his narrative,
and his audience had broken up forthwith, under his
abstract, pensive gaze. Men drifted oflf the verandah
in pairs or alone without loss of time, without oflFering
a remark, as if the last image of that incomplete story,
its incompleteness itself, and the very tone of the
speaker, had made discussion vain and comment im-
possible. Each of them seemed to carry away his own
impression, to carry it away with him like a secret;
but/tfiere^as only one man of all these listenefs wlia
was eyer-tojjear the iM^Jgoid of the stot;^/" It came to
Km at home, more than two years later, and it came
contained in a thick packet a ddressed inMailow^^i up*
rj^hj fl,nd angnTar-Wi^i:

The privileged man opened the packet, looked in,
then, laying it down, went to the window. His rooms
were in the highest flat of a lofty building, and his glance
could travel afar beyond the clear panes of glass, as
though he were looldng out of the lantern of a Kght-
house. The slopes of the roofs glistened, the dark
broken ridges succeeded each other without end like
sombre, uncrested waves, and from the depths of the
town under his feet ascended a confused and unceasing
mutter. The spires of churches, numerous, scattered
haphazard, uprose like beacons on a maze of shoals
without a channel; the driving rain mingled with the
falling dusk of a winter*s evening; and the booming
of a big clock on a tower striking the hour, rolled
past in voluminous, austere bursts of sound, with a

837

/-"

838 LORD JIM

shrill vibrating cry at the core. He drew the heavy
curtains.

The light of his shaded reading-lamp slept like a
sheltered pool, his footfalls made no sound on the carpet,
his wandering days were over. No more horizons as
boundless as hope, no more twilights within the forests
as solemn as temples, in the hot quest of the Ever-un-
discovered Country over the hill, across the stream,
beyond the wave. The hour was striking! No more!
No more! — ^but the opened packet under the lamp
brought back the sounds, the visions, the very savour of
the past — ^a multitude of fading faces, a tumult of low
voices, dying away upon the shores of distant seas under
a passionate and unconsoling sunshine. He sighed and
sat down to read.

At first he saw three distinct enclosures. A good
many pages closely blackened and pinned together;
a loose square sheet of greyish paper with a few words
traced in a handwriting he had never seen before, and
an explanatory letter from Marlow. From this last
fell ancf^r letter, yellowed by time and frayed on the
folda«. jHe picked it up and, laying it aside, turned to
Marlow's message, ran swiftly over the opening lines,
and, checking himself, thereafter read on deliberately,
like one approaching with slow feet and alert eyes the
glimpse of an undiscovered country.

" . . . I don't suppose youVe forgotten," went on
the letter. "You alone have showed a,iiisLterest in him
that survived the telling, olliis story, UioughTTrc?
member well yoiijipettWl not admit he had mastered his
fate. You^lj)gfiesied for him the disaster of weariness
and of disgust with acquired honour, with the self-
appointed task,* with the love sprung from pity and
youth. You had said you knew so well *that kind of
thing,' its illusQry satisfaction, its unavoidable de-

('-" ^' '' '' \ ' \

LORD JIM 339

ception. You said also — I call to mind — that ^giYiagi.
ypjuJiifeLUp to theni'^(Z&ep» m e a ni ng aU oimankind witbi
skins brown, yellow, or black in colour) *was like selling 1
"your soul lo a brute. You contended that Hhat kind^
cjf thing' was only enduraHe and enduring when based
on a firm conviction inifne truth of ideas racially our 1 ^
own, in whose name are established the order, the \ ^
morality of an ethical progregay *We want its strength
at our backs,' you had said. *We want a belief in its
necessity and its justice, to make a worthy and con-
scious sacrifice of our lives. Without it the sacrifice is
only forgetfulness, the way of offering is no better than
the way to perdition.' In other words, you maintained
that we must fight in the ranks or our lives don't count.
Possibly! You ought to know — ^be it said without
malice — ^you who have rushed into one or two places
single-handed and came out cleverly, without singeinj
your wings. The point, however, is that of all man-
km^^Jiia-hadna dealings but. with himseSi, and the I 4
question is whether at the last he had not confessed to a
faith mightier than the laws of order and progress.

"I affirm nothing. Perhaps you may pronounce
— after you've read. There is much truth — after all —
in the conunon expression 'under a cloud.' It is im-
possible to see him clearly — especially as it is through
the eyes of others that we take our last look at him. 1
have no hesitation in imparting to you all I know of the
last episode that, as he used to say, had *come to him.'
One wonders whether this was perhaps that supreme
opportunity, that last and satisfying test for which I
had always suspected him to be waiting, before he could
frame a message to the impeccable world. You re-
member that when I was leaving him for the last time he
had asked whether I would be going home soon, and
suddenly cried after me, *Tell them!' ... I had

^

840 LORD JIM

waited — curious I'll own, and hopeful, too — only to hear
him shout, *No. Nothing/ That was all then — and
there shall be nothing more; there shall be no message,
Jtnless such as eaxjh of us can interpret for himself from
the language of facts, that are so often more enigmatic
. wl^ Vihan the craftiest arrangement of words. JBSumde, it
^ f" is true, one more attempt to delive¥'tiim§felf; but that^
too, failed, as you may perceive if you look at the sheet-
of greyish foolscap enclosed here. He had tried to
write; do you. notice the conamonplace handf^ris
headed *The Fort, Patusan.* I suppose hehad carried
^ out his intention of making out of his house a place of
defence. It was an excellent plan: a deep ditch, an
earth wall topped by a palisade, and at the angles guns
mounted on platforms to sweep each side of the square.
Doramin had agreed to furnish him the guns; and so
each man of his party would know there was a place of
safety, upon which every faithful partisan could rally
in case of some sudden danger. All this showed his
judicious foresight, his faith in the future. What he
called *my own people' — the liberated captives of the
Sherif — were to make a distinct quarter of Patusan,
with their huts and little plots of ground under the
walls of the stronghold. Within he would be an in-
vincible host in himself. 'The Fort, Patusan.' No
date, as you observe. What is a number and a name to
a day of days? It is also impossible to say whom he had
in his mind when he seized the pen: Stein — ^myself —
the world at large — or was this only the aimless startled
cry of a solitary man confronted by his fate? * An awful
thing has happened,' he wrote before he flung the pen
down for the first time; look at the ink blot resembling
t|;^p >i,f flfi of f^n s^YT^Yf under these words. After a while
he had tried again, scrawling heavily, as if with a hand
of lead, another line. *I must now at once • . .'

LORD JIM S41 ;

/ Thi^ p^Tt )t^^ °pT'it^f*rHj and that time he gave it up. ^
There's nothing more; he had seen a broad gulf that
neither eye nor voice could span. I can understand

/ destiny wW^hineliaxf done Tils best id master. C

**I send you also an old telfeiP^'v©^^ It

was found carefully preserved in his writing-case. It
is f rom hi s father, and by the date you can see he must
have received" itTrfeW days before he joined the Patna.
Thus it must be the last letter he ever had from home.
He had treasured it all these years. The good old par-
son fancied his sailor-son. I've looked in at a sentence
here and there. There is nothing in it except just
affection. He tells his Mear James' that the last long
letter from him was very * honest and entertaining.' He
would not have him 'judge men harshly or hastily.'
There are four pages of it, easy morality and family
news. Tom had 'taken orders.' Carrie's husband had
'money losses.' The old chap goes on equably trust-
ing Providence and the established order of the universe,
but alive to its small dangers and its small mercies.
One can almost see him, grey-haired and serene in the
inviolable shelter of his book-lined, faded, and com-
fortable study, where for forty years he had consci-
entiously gone over and over again the round of his
little thoughts about faith and virtue, about the con-
duct of life and the only proper manner of dying; where
he had written so many sermons, where he sits talking
to his boy, over there, on the other side of the earth.
But what of the distance? Virtue is one all over the
world, and there is only one faith, one conceivable con-
duct of life, one manner of dying. He hopes his 'dear
James' will never forget that 'who once gives way to
temptation, in the very instant hazards his total de-

6

S42 LORD JIM

pravity and everlasting ruin. Therefore resolve fixedly
never, through any possible motives, to do anything
which you believe to be wrong/ There is also some
news of a favourite dog; and a pony, 'which all you
boys used to ride,' had gone blind from old age and had
to be shot. The old chap invokes Heaven's blessing;
the mother and all the girls then at home send their
love. . • . No, there is nothing much in that
yellow frayed letter fluttering out of his cherishing
grasp after so many years. It was never answered, but
who can say what converse he may have held with all
these placid, colourless forms of men and women
peopling that quiet comer of the world as free of danger
or strife as a tomb, and breathing equably the air of
undisturbed rectitude. It seems amazing that he
should belong to it, he to whom so many things 'had
come.' Nothing ever came to them; they would never
be taken unawares, and never be called upon to grapple
with fate. ) Here they all are, evoked by the mild gossip

■ of the father, all these brothers and sisters, bone of his
bone and flesh of his flesh, gazing with clear unconscious
eyes, while I seem to see him, returned at last, no longer
a mere white speck at the heart of an immense mystery,
but of full stature, standing disregarded amongst their
untroubled shapes, with a stem and romantic aspect,
but always mute, dark — ^under a cloud.

"The story of the last events you shall find in the
few pages enclosed here. You must admit that it is
romantic beyond, the wildest dreams of hish- boyhood,
and yet there is to my mind a sort of profound and

rterriFying logic in it, as if it ^*^^*^ ^V^ JTIflgfr^^^^^ "^^nfi,^
that could set loose upon us tke might of an over-
whelming destiny. The imprudence of our thoughts \^
recoils upon our heads; who toys with tte sword^sKall
perish by the sword. iTiis astounding adventure, of

LORD JIM 343

which the most astounding part is that it is true, comes
on as an unavoidable consequence. Something of the
>SQrt had to happen. You repeat this to yourself while
you marvel that such a thing could happen in the year
of grace before last. But it has happened — ^and there is
no disputing its logic.

"I put it down here for you as though I had been
an eyewitness. My information was fragmentary,
but I've fitted the pieces together, and there is enough
of them to make an intelligible picture. I wonder
how he would have related it himself. He has confided
so much in me that at times it seems as though he must
come in presently and tell the story in his own words, in
his careless yet feeling voice, with his offhand manner, a
little puzzled, a little bothered, a little hurt, but now
and tien by a word or a phrase giving one of these
glimpses of his very own self that were never any good
for purposes of orientation. It's diflScult to believe he
will never come. I shall never hear his voice again, nor
shall I see his smooth tan-and-pink face with a white
Kne on the forehead, and the youthful eyes darkened by
excitement to a profound, unfathomable blue."

A^l,

CHAPTER THIRTY^EVEN

"It all begins with a remarkable exploit of a man
called Brown, who stole with complete success a
Spanish schooner out of a small bay near Zamboanga.
Till I discovered the fellow my information was in-
complete, but most unexpectedly I did come upon him
a few hours before he gave up his arrogant ghost.
Fortunately he was wiUing and able to talk between
the choking fits of asthma, and his racked body writhed
with malicious exultation at the bare thought of Jim.
He exulted thus at the idea that he had ^paid out the
stuck-up beggar after all/ He gloated over his action.
I had to bear the sunken glare of his fierce crow-footed
eyes if I wanted to know; and so I bore it, reflecting
how much certain forms of evil are akin to madness,
derived from intense egoism, inflamed by resistance,
tearing the soul to pieces, and giving factitious vigour
to the body. The story also reveals unsuspected depths
of cunning in the wretched Cornelius, whose abject and
intense hate acts like a subtle inspiration, pointing out
an unerring way towards revenge.

"*I could see directly I set my eyes on him wl^tfiMg«t
of a fool he was,' gasped thfi^ying Brown. *He a P^a^^'
Hell! He was a hollow ^ham. ) As if he coiddn't have
said straight out, "Hands'^jfiHny plunder!" blast him!
That would have been like a man! Rot his superior
soul ! He had me there — but he hadn't devil enough in
him to make an end of me. Not he ! A thing like that
letting me off as if I wasn't worth a kick! . . .'
Brown struggled desperately for breath. . • • * Fraud.

844

LORD JIM ' S45

. . . Letting me off. . • • And so I did make
an end of him after all. . • .' cHe"^ choked again.^
. . . *I expect this thing'U kill me, iDut I shall "die
easy now. You . . . you hear ... I don't
know your name — ^I would give you a five-pound note
if — ^if I had it — ^for the news — or my name's not Brown.
. • .' He grinned horribly. . . . 'Gentleman

*'He said all these things in profound gasps, staring
at me with his yellow eyes out of a long, ravaged brown
face; he jerked his left arm; a pepper-and-salt matted
beard hung almost into his lap; a dirty ragged blanket
covered his legs. I had found him out in Bangkok
through that busybody Schomberg, the hotelkeeper,
who had, confidentially, directed me where to look. It
appears that a sort of loafing, fuddled vagabond — ^a
white man living amongst the natives with a Siamese
woman — ^had considered it a great privilege to give a
shelter to the last days of the famous Gentleman
Brown. While he was talking to me in the wretched
hovel, and, as it were, fighting for every minute of his
life, the Siamese woman, with big bare legs and a stupid
coarse face, sat in a dark comer chewing betel stolidly.
Now and then she would get up for the purpose of
shooing a chicken away from the door. The whole hut
shook when she walked. An ugly yellow child, naked
and pot-bellied like a little heathen god, stood at the
foot of the couch, finger in mouth, lost in a profound and
calm contemplation of the dying man.

"He talked feverishly; but in the middle of a word,
perhaps, an invisible hand would take him by the
throat, and he would look at me dui^bly with an ex-
pression of doubt and angui3h. He seemed to fear that
I would get tired of waiting and go away, leaving him
with his tale untold, with his exultation unexpressed.

S46 LORD JIM

He died during the night, I believe, but by that time
I had nothing more to learn.

So much as to Brown, for the present.
Eight months before this, coming into Samarang,
I went as usual to see Stein. On the garden side of
the house a Malay on the verandah greeted me shyly,
and I remembered that I had seen him in Fatusan, in
Jim's house, amongst other Bugis men who used to
come in the evening to talk interminably over their war
reminiscences and to discuss State affairs. Jim had
pointed him out to me once as a respectable petty
trader owning a small seagoing native craft, who had
showed himself *one of the best at the taking of the
stockade.' I was not very surprised to see him, since
any Fatusan trader venturing as far as Samarang would
naturally find his way to Stein's house. I returned his
greeting and passed on. At the door of Stein's room
I came upon another Malay in whom I recognized
Tamb' Itam.

"I asked him at once what he was doing there; it
occurred to me that Jim might have come on a visit.
I own I was pleased and excited at the thought. Tamb*
Itam looked as if he did not know what to say, *Is
Tuan Jim inside?' I asked, impatiently. *No,' he
mumbled, hanging his head for a moment, and then with
sudden earnestness, *He would not fight. He would not
fight,' he repeated twice. As he seemed unable to say
anything else, I pushed him aside and went in.

"Stein, tall and stooping, stood alone in the middle
of the room between the rows of butterfly cases. ^AchJ
is it you, my friend?' he said, sadly, peering through his
glasses. A drab sack-coat of alpaca hung, unbuttoned,
down to his knees. He had a Fanama hat on his
head, and there were deep furrows on his pale cheeks.
* What's the matter now? ' I asked, nervously. * There's

LORD JIM 347

Tamb* Itam there. . • / *Come and see the girl.
Come and see the girl. She is here/ he said, with a
half-hearted show of activity. I tried to detain him,
but with gentle obstinacy he would take no notice of my
eager questions. *She is here, she is here,' he re-
peated, in great perturbation. *They came here two
days ago. An old man like me, a stranger — sehen Sie —
cannot do much. • . . Come this way. . . .
Young hearts are unforgiving. . • .* I could see he
was in utmost distress. . . . *The strength of life
in them, the cruel strength of life. . . J He
mumbled, leading me round the house; I followed him,
lost in dismal and angry conjectures. At the door of
the drawing-room he barred my way. *He loved her
very much?' he said interrogatively, and I only nodded,
feeling so bitterly disappointed that I would not trust
myself to speak. *Very frightful,' he murmured.
'She can't understand me. I am only a strange old
man. Perhaps you . . . she knows you. Talk to
her. We can't leave it like this. Tell her to forgive
him. It was very frightful.' *No doubt,' I said,
exasperated at being in the dark; *but have you for-
given him?' He looked at me queerly. *You shall
hear,' he said, and opening the door, absolutely pushed
me in.

"You know Stein's big house and the two immense
reception-rooms, uninhabited and uninhabitable, clean,
full of soUtude and of shining things that look as if
never beheld by the eye of man? They are cool on
the hottest days, and you enter them as you would a
scrubbed cave underground. I passed through one,
and in the other I saw the girl sitting at the end of a big
mahogany table, on which she rested her head, the face
hidden in her arms. The waxed floor reflected her
dimly as though it had been a sheet of frozen water.

L

r

i

L

348 LORD JIM

The rattan screens were down, and through the strange
greenish gloom made by the foliage of the trees outside,
a strong wind blew in gusts, swaying the long draperies
of windows and doorways. Her white figure seemed
shaped in snow; the pendent crystals of a great chande-
lier clicked above her head like glittering icicles. She
looked up and watched my approach. I was chilled as if
these vast apartments had been the cold abode of despair.

^'She recognised me at once, and as soon as I had
stopped, looking down at her: 'He has left me,' she
said, quietly; *you always leave us — ^for your own ends.'
Her face was set. All the heat of life seemed with-
drawn within some inaccessible spot in her breast.
*It would have been easy to die with him,' she went on,
and made a slight yireary gesture as if giving up the
-nneomprehensible. / 'He would not! It was like a
blindness — and yet it was I who was speaking to him;
it was I who stood before his eyes; it was at me that he
looked all the time! Ah! you are hard, treacherous,
without truth, without compassion. What makes you
so wicked? Or is it that you are all mad?'

"I took her hand; it did not respond, and when I
dropped it, it hung down to the floor. That indifference,
more awful than tears, cries, and reproaches, seemed to
defy time and consolation. You felt that nothing you
could say would reach the seat of the still and be-
numbing pain.

"Stein had said, 'You shall hear.' I did hear. I
heard it all, listening with amazement, with awe, to the
tones of her inflexible weariness. She could not grasp
the real sense of what she was telling me, and her re-
sentment filled me with pity for her — ^for him, too. I
stood rooted to the spot after she had finished. Lean-
ing on her arm, she stared with hard eyes, and the wind
passed in gusts, the crystals kept on clicking in the

LORD JIM S49

greenish gloom. She went on whispering to herself:
*And yet he was looking at me! He could see my face,
hear my voice, hear my grief! When I used to sit at his
feet, with my cheek against his knee and his hand on my
head, the curse of cruelty and madness was already
within him, waiting for the day. The day came ! . . .
and before the sun had set he could not see me any more
— ^he was made blind and deaf and without pity, as
you all are. He shall have no tears from me. Never,
never. Not one tear. I will not! He went away
from me as if I had been worse than dqath. flSe Heff /
as if driven by some accursed thing he had heard or /
seen in his sleep. . . .* - — '-^'

"Her steady eyes seemed to strain after the shape of
a man torn out of her arms by the strength of a dream.
She made no sign to my silent bow. I was glad to escape.

"I saw her once again, the same afternoon. On
leaving her I had gone in search of Stein, whom I could
not find indoors; and I wandered out, pursued by
distressful thoughts, into the gardens, those famous
gardens of Stein, in which you can find every plant and
tree of tropical lowlands. I followed the course of the
canalised stream, and sat for a long time on a shaded
bench near the ornamental pond, where some waterfowl
with clipped wings were diving and splashing noisily.
The branches of casuarina-trees behind me swayed
lightly, incessantly, reminding me of the soughing of
fir-trees at home.

"This mournful and restless sound WjftsJi fit^iM^^
paniment to my meditations. $$he had saidT he had
been driven away froHrHfef b7T^ream,-and there waa
no answer one could make her— there seemed to be no ^
forgiveness for such t^^transjgjessi^ And yet is not .■ J
mankind itself, pushing oh its blind way, driven by a ; ^
dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark \

^aA\ ct

350 LORD JIM

/ paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion.
And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?

"When I rose to get back to the house I caught sight
of Stein's drab coat through a gap in the foliage, and
very soon at a turn of the path I came upon him walking
with the girl. Her little hand rested on his forearm,
and under the broad, flat rim of his Panama hat he bent
over her, greyhaired, paternal, with compassionate and
chivalrous deference. I stood aside, but they stopped,
facing me. His gaze was bent on the ground at his
feet; the girl, erect and slight on his arm, stared som-
brely beyond my shoulder with black, clear, motionless
eyes. * Schrecklich,^ he murmured. 'Terrible! Terrible!
What can one do?' He seemed to be appealing to me,
but her youth, the length of the days suspended over
her head, appealed to me more; and suddenly, even as
I realized that nothing could be said, I found myself
pleading his cause for her sake. 'You must forgive
him,' I concluded, and my own voice seemed to me
muffled, lost in an irresponsive deaf immensity. 'We
all want to be forgiven,' I added after a while.

"'What have I done?' she asked with her lips only.

"'You always mistrusted him,' I said.

"'He was like the others,' she pronounced slowly.

"'Not like the others,' I protested, but she continued
evenly, without any feeling —

"'He was false.' And suddenly Stein broke in.
' No ! no ! no ! My poor child ! . . .' He patted her
hand lying passively on his sleeve. 'No! no! Not
false! True! true! true!' He tried to look into her
stony face. 'You don't understand. AchI Why you
do not imderstand? . . . Terrible,' he said to me.
'Some day she shall imderstand.'

"'Will you explain?' I asked, looking hard at him.
They moved on.

LORD JIM S61

"I watched them. Her gown trailed on the path, her
black hair fell loose. She walked upright and light by
the side of the tall man, whose long shapeless coat hung
in perpendicular folds from the stooping shoulders,
whose feet moved slowly. They disappeared beyond
that spinney (you may remember) where sixteen dif-
ferent kinds of bamboo grow together, aU distinguish-
able to the learned eye. For my part, I was fascinated
by the exquisite grace and beauty of that fluted grove,
crowned with pointed leaves and feathery heads, the
lightness, the vigour, the charm as distinct as a voice of
that unperplexed luxuriating life. I remember staying
to look at it for a long time, as one would linger within
reach of a consoling whisper. The sky was pearly grey.
It was one of those overcast days so rare in the tropics,
in which memories crowd upon one, memories of other
shores, of other faces.

"I drove back to town the same afternoon, taking
with me Tamb' Itam and the other Malay, in whose
seagoing craft they had escaped in the bewilderment,
fear, and gloom of the disaster. The shock of it seemed
to have changed their natures. It had turned her pas-
sion into stone, and it made the surly taciturn Tamb'
Itam almost loquacious. His surliness, too, was sub-
dued into puzzled humility, as though he had seen the
failure of a potent charm in a supreme moment. The
Bugis trader, a shy hesitating man, was very clear in
the little he had to say. Both were evidently over-
awed by a sense of deep inexpressible wonder, by the
touch of an inscrutable mysteiy." '

There with Marlow's signature the letter proper
ended. The privileged reader screwed up his lamp, and
solitary above the billowy roofs of the town, like a
lighthouse-keeper above the sea, he turned to the pages
of the story.

•/■ . ■'■ ■ 1

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

"It all begins, as IVe told you, with the man called
Brown," ran the opening sentence of MarIow*s narra-
tive. "You who have knocked about the Western
Pacific must have heard of him. He was the show
ruflSan on the Australian coast — ^not that he was often
to be seen there, but because he was always trotted out
in the stories of lawless life a visitor from home is
treated to; and the mildest of these stories which were
told about him from Cape York to Eden Bay was more
than enough to hang a man if told in the right place.
They never failed to let you know, too, that he was
supposed to be the son of a baronet. Be it as it may, it
is certain he had deserted from a home ship in the early
gold-digging days, and in a few years became talked
about as the terror of this or that group of islands in
Polynesia. He would kidnap natives, he would strip
some lonely white trader to the very pyjamas he stood
in, and after he had robbed the poor devil, he would as
likely as not invite him to fight a duel with shot-guns
on the beach — which would have been fair enough as
these things go, if the other man hadn't been by that
time already half-dead with fright. Brown was a
latter-day buccaneer, sorry enough, like his more
celebrated prototypes; but what distinguished him
from his contemporary brother ruffians, like Bully
Hayes or the mellifluous Pease, or that perfumed,
Dundreary-whiskered, dandified scoundrel known as
Dirty Dick, was the arrogant temper of . bis misdeeds
andfa vehement scorn for mankind at large fuid for his

852

rge |ui4

LORD JIM 358

victims in particular. The others were merely vulgar
and greedy brutes, but he seemed moved by some com-
plex intention. He would rob a man as if only to
demonstrate his poor opinion of the creature, and he
would bring to the shooting or maiming of some quiet,
unoffending stranger a savage and vengeful earnestness
fit to terrify the most reckless of desperadoes. In the
days of his greatest glory he owned an armed barque,
manned by a mixed crew of Kanakas and runaway
whalers, and boasted, I don't know with what truth, of
being financed on the quiet by a most respectable firm of
copra merchants. Later on he ran off — ^it was reported
—with the wife of a missionary, a very young girl from
Clapham way, who had married the mild, flat-footed
fellow in a moment of enthusiasm, and suddenly trans-
planted to Melanesia, lost her bearings somehow. It
was a dark story. She was ill at the time he carried
her off, and died on board his ship. It is said — as the
most wonderful part of the tale — that over her body he
gave way to an outburst of sombre and violent grief.
His luck left him, too, very soon after. He lost his ship
on some rocks off Malaita, and disappeared for a time
as though he had gone down with her. He is heard of
next at Nuka-Hiva, where he bought an old French
schooner out of Government service. What creditable
enterprise he might have had in view when he made that
purchase I can't say, but it is evident that what with
High Commissioners, consuls, men-of-war, and inter-
national control, the South Seas were getting too hot to
hold gentlemen of his kidney. Clearly he must have
shifted the scene of his operations farther west, because
a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a
very profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila
Bay, in which a peculating governor and an absconding
treasurer are the principal figiures; thereafter he seems

854 LORD JIM

to have hung around the Philippines in his rotten
schooner, battling with an adverse fortune, till at last,
running his appointed course, he sails into Jim's history,
a blind accomplice of the Dark Powers.

''His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter
captured him he was simply trying to run a few guns
for the insurgents. If so, then I can't understand what
he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My
belief, however, is that he was blackmailing the native
villages along the coast. The principal thing is that the
cutter, throwing a guard on board, made him sail in
company towards Zamboanga. On the way, for some
reason or other, both vessels had to call at one of these
new Spanish settlements — which never came to any-
thing in the end — where there was not only a civil
official in charge on shore, but a good stout coasting
schooner lying at anchor in the little bay; and this craft,
in every way much better than his own. Brown made up
his mind to steal.

"He was down on his luck — as he told me himself.
The world he had bullied for twenty years with fierce,
aggressive disdain, had yielded him nothing in the way
of material advantage except a small bag of silver
dollars, which was concealed in his cabin so that 'the
devil himself couldn't smell it out.' And that was all —
absolutely all. He was tired of his life, and not afraid of
death. But this man, who would stake his existence on
a whim with a bitter and jeering recklessness, stood in
mortal fear of imprisonment. He had an unreasoning
cold-sweat, nerve-shaking, blood-to-water-tuming sort
of horror at the bare possibility of being locked up — the
sort of terror a superstitious man would feel at the
thought of being embraced by a spectre. Therefore the
civil official who came on board to make a preliminary
investigation into the capture, investigated arduously

LORD JIM 855

all day long, and only went ashore after dark, muffled
up in a cloak, and taking great care not to let Brown's
little all clink in its bag. Afterwards, being a man of
his word, he contrived (the very next evening, I be-
lieve) to send off the Government cutter on some urgent
bit of special service. As her commander could not
spare a prize crew, he contented himself by taking away
before he left all the sails of Brown's schooner to the
very last rag, and took good care to tow his two boats
on to the beach a couple of miles off.

"But in Brown's crew there was a Solomon Islander,
kidnapped in his youth and devoted to Brown, who was
the best man of the whole gang. That fellow swam off
to the coaster — ^five hundred yards or so — ^with the end
of a warp made up of all the running gear unrove for
the purpose. The water was smooth, and the bay
dark, *like the inside of a cow,' as Brown described it.
The Solomon Islander clambered over the bulwarks
with the end of the rope in his teeth. The crew of the
coaster — all Tagals — were ashore having a jollification
in the native village. The two shipkeepers left on board
woke up suddenly and saw the devil. It had glittering
eyes and leaped quick as lightning about the deck.
They fell on their knees, paralysed with fear, crossing
themselves and mumbling prayers. With a long knife
he found in the caboose the Solomon Islander, without
interrupting their orisons, stabbed first one, then the
other; with the same knife he set to sawing patiently at
the coir cable till suddenly it parted under the blade
with a splash. Then in the silence of the bay he let out
a cautious shout, and Brown's gang, who meantime had
been peering and straining their hopeful ears in the dark-
ness, began to pull gently at their end of the warp. In
less than five minutes the two schooners came together
with a slight shock and a creak of spars.

SM LORD JIM

^^Brown's crowd transferred themselyes without
losing an instant, taking with them their firearms and a
laige supply of ammunition. They were sixteen in all:
two runaway blue-jackets, a lanky deserter from a
Yankee man-of-war, a couple of simple, blond Scandi-
navians, a mulatto of sorts, one bland Chinaman who
cooked — and the rest of the nondescript spawn of the
South Seas. None of them cared; Brown bent them to
his will, and Brown, indifferent to gallows, was running
away from the spectre of a Spanish prison. He didn't
give them the time to trans-ship enough provisions; the
weather was calm, the air was charged with dew, and
when they cast off the ropes and set sail to a faint off-
shore draught there was no flutter in the damp canvas;
their old schooner seemed to detach itself gently from
the stolen craft and slip away silently, together with the
black mass of the coast, into the night.

*^They got clear away. Brown related to me in
detail their passage down the Straits of Macassar.
It is a harrowing and desperate story. They were short
of food and water; they boarded several native craft and
got a little from each. With a stolen ship Brown did
not dare to put into any port, of course. He had no
money to buy anything, no papers to show, and no lie
plausible enough to get him out again. An Arab
barque, under the Dutch flag, surprised one night at
anchor off Poulo Laut, yielded a little dirty rice, a bunch
of bananas, and a cask of water; three days of squally
misty weather from the north-east shot the schooner
across the Java Sea. The yellow muddy waves drenched
that collection of hungry ruffians. They sighted mail-
boats moving on their appointed routes; passed well-
f oimd home ships with rusty iron sides anchored in the
shallow sea waiting for a change of weather or the turn
of the tide; an English gunboat, white and trim, with

LORD JIM 357

two slim masts, crossed their bows one day in the dis-
tance; and on another occasion a Dutch corvette, black
and heavily sparred, loomed upon their quarter, steam-
ing dead slow in the mist. They slipped through un-
seen or disregarded, a wan, sallow-faced band of utter
outcasts, enraged with hunger and hunted by fear.
Brown's idea was to make for Madagascar, where he
expected, on grounds not altogether illusory, to sell the
schooner in Tamatave, and no questions asked, or
perhaps obtain some more or less forged papers for her.
Yet before he could face the long passage across the
Indian Ocean food was wanted — water, too.

^^P^haps he had heard of Patusan — or perhaps he
just only happened to see the name written in small
letters on the chart — ^probably that of a largish village
up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far
from the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of
submarine cables. He had done that kind of thing
before — ^in the way of business; and this now was an
absolute necessity, a question of life and death — or
rather of liberty. Of liberty ! He was sure to get provi-
sions — ^bullocks — ^rice — ^sweet-potatoes. The sorry gang
licked their chops. A cargo of produce for the schooner
perhaps could be extorted — ^and, who knows? — some real
ringing coined money ! Some of these chiefs and viUage
headmen can be made to part freely. He told me he
would have roasted their toes rather than be baulked. I
believe him. His men believed him too. They didn't cheer
aloud, being a dumb pack, but made ready wolfishly.

^'Luck served him as to weather. A few days of
calm would have brought unmentionable horrors on
board that schooner, but with the help of land and sea
breezes, in less than a week after clearing the Sunda
Straits, he anchored off the Batu Kring mouth within
a pistol-shot of the fishing village.

368 lORD JIM

"Fourteen of them packed into the schooner's long-
boat (which was big, having been used for cargo-work)
and started up the river, while two remained in charge
of the schooner with food enough to keep starvation off
for ten days. The tide and wind helped, and early one
afternoon the big white boat under a ragged sail
shouldered its way before the sea breeze into Patusan
Beach, manned by fourteen assorted scarecrows glaring
hungrily ahead, and fingering the breech-blocks of
cheap rifles. Brown calculated upon the terrifying
surprise of his appearance. They sailed in with the
last of the flood; the Rajah's stockade gave no sign; the
first houses on both sides of the stream seemed deserted.
A few canoes were seen up the reach in full flight.
Brown was astonished at the size of the place. A pro-
found silence reigned. The wind dropped between the
houses; two oars were got out and the boat held on up-
stream, the idea being to effect a lodgment in the centre
of the town before the inhabitants could think of re-
sistance.

"It seems, however, that the headman of the fishing
village at Batu Kring had managed to send off a timely
warning. When the long-boat came abreast of the
mosque (which Doramin had built: a structure with
gables and roof finials of carved coral) the open space
before it was full of people. A shout went up, and was
followed by a clash of gongs all up the river. Prom a
point above two little brass six-pounders were dis-
charged, and the round-shot came skipping down the
empty reach, spirting glittering jets of water in the sun-
shine. In front of the mosque a shouting lot of men
began firing in volleys that whipped athwart the cur-
rent of the river; an irregular, rolling fusillade was
opened on the boat from both banks, and Brown's men
replied with a wild, rapid fire. The oars had been got in.

LORD JIM 359

"The turn of the tide at high water comes on very
quick in that river, and the boat in midstream, nearly
hidden in smoke, began to drift back stem foremost.
Along both shores the smoke thickened also, lying be-
low the roofs in a level streak as you may see a long
cloud cutting the slope of a moimtain. A tumult of
war-cries, the vibrating clang of gongs, the deep snoring
of drums, yells of rage, crashes of volley-firing, made an
awful din, in which Brown sat confounded but steady at
the tiller, working himself into a fury of hate and rage
against those people who dared to defend themselves.
Two of his men had been wounded, and he saw his re-
treat cut off below the town by some boats that had put
off from Tunku Allang's stockade. There were six of
them full of men. While he was thus beset he per-
ceived the entrance of the narrow creek (the same which
Jim had jumped at low water). It was then brim full.
Steering the long-boat in, they landed, and, to make
a long story short, they established themselves on a
little knoll about 900 yards from the stockade, which,
in fact, they commanded from that position. The
slopes of the knoll were bare, but there were a few
trees on the summit. They went to work cutting these
down for a breastwork, and were fairly intrenched
before dark; meantime the Rajah's boats remained in
the river with curious neutrality. When the sun set
the glare of many brushwood blazes lighted on the
river-front, and between the double line of houses on
the land side threw into black relief the roofs, the groups
of slender palms, the heavy clumps of fruit-trees.
Brown ordered the grass round his position to be fired;
a low ring of thin flames under the slow, ascending
smoke wriggled rapidly down the slopes of the knoll;
here and there a dry bush caught with a tall, vicious
roar. The conflagration made a clear zone of fire for

S60 LORD JIM

the riiBes of the small party, and expired smouldering on
the edge of the f orest^ and along the muddy bank of the
creek. A strip of jungle luxuriating in a damp hollow
between the knoll and the Rajah's stockade stopped it
on that side with a great crackling and detonations of
bursting bamboo stems. The sky was sombre, velvety,
and swarming with stars. The blackened ground
smoked' quietly with low creeping wisps, till a little
breeze came on and blew everything away. Brown
expected an attack to be delivered as soon as the tide
had flowed enough again to enable the war-boats which
had cut ofiF his retreat to enter the creek. At any rate
he was sure there would be an attempt to carry o£F his
long-boat, which lay below the hill, a dark high lump on
the feeble sheen of a wet mud-flat. But no move of
any sort was made by the boats in the river. Over the
stockade and the Rajah's buildings Brown saw their
lights on the water. They seemed to be anchored
across the stream. Other lights afloat were moving in
the reach, crossing and recrossing from side to side.
There were also lights twinkling motionless upon the
long walls of houses up the reach, as far as the bend, and
more still beyond, others isolated inland. The loom
of the big fires disclosed buildings, roofs, black piles as
far as he could see. It was an immense place. The
fourteen desperate invaders lying flat behind the felled
trees raised their chins to look over at the stir of that
town that seemed to extend up-river for miles and
swarm with thousands of angry men. They did not
speak to each other. Now and then they would hear a
loud yell, or a single shot rang out, fired very far some-
where. But round their position everything was still,
dark, silent. They seemed to be forgotten, as if the ex-
citement keeping awake all the population had nothing
to do with them, as if they had been dead abeady."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

(C

'All the events of that night have a great importance,
since they brought about a situation which remained
unchanged tiU Jim's return. Jim had been away m the
interior for more than a week, and it was Dain Waris
who had directed the first repulse. That brave and
intelligent youth (*who knew how to fight after the
manner of white men') wished to settle the business
off-hand, but his people were too much for him. He
had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of
invincible, supernatural power. He was not the visible,
tangible incarnation of imf ailing truth and of unfailing
victory. Beloved, trusted, and admired as he was, he
was still one of them^ while Jim was one of us. More*
over, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was
invulnerable, while Dain Wans could be killed. Those
unexpressed thoughts guided the opinions of the chief
men of the town, who elected to assemble in Jim's fort
for deliberation upon the emergency, as if expecting to
find wisdom and courage in the dwelling of the absent
white man. The shooting of Brown's ruffians was so
far good, or lucky, that there had been half-a-dozen
casualties amongst the defenders. The wounded were
lying on the verandah tended by their women-folk.
The women and children from the lower part of the
town had been sent into the fort at the first alarm.
There Jewel was in command, very efficient and high-
spirited, obeyed by Jim's ^own people,' who, quitting m
a body their little settlement under the stockade, had
gone in to form the garrison. The refugees crowded

861

862 LORD JIM

round her; and through the whole affair, to the very
disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial
ardour. It was to her that Dain Waris had gone at
once at the first intelligence of danger, for you must
know that Jim was the only one in Patusan who
possessed a store of gunpowder. Stein, with whom he
had kept up intimate relations by letters, had obtained
from the Dutch Government a special authorisation to
export five hundred kegs of it to Patusan. The powder-
magazine was a small hut of rough logs covered entirely
with earth, and in Jim's absence the girl had the key.
In the coimcil, held at eleven o'clock in the evening in
Jim's dining-room, she backed up Waris's advice for
immediate and vigorous action. I am told that she
stood up by the side of Jim's empty chair at the head of
the long table and made a warlike impassioned speech,
which for the moment extorted murmurs of approbation
from the assembled headmen. Old Doramin, who had
not showed himself outside his own gate for more than a
year, had been brought across with great difficulty.
He was, of course, the chief man there. The temper
of the council was very unforgiving, and the old man's
word would have been decisive; but it is my opinion
that, well aware of his son's fiery courage, he dared not
pronounce the word. More dilatory counsels pre-
vailed. A certain Haji Saman pointed out at great
length that Hhese tyrannical and ferocious men had
delivered themselves to a certain death in any case.
They would stand fast on their hill and starve, or they
would try to regain their boat and be shot from am-
bushes across the creek, or they would break and fly
into the forest and perish singly there.' He argued
that by the use of proper stratagems these evil-minded
strangers could be destroyed without the risk of a
battle, and his words had a great weight, especially

LORD JIM S63

with the Patusan men proper. What unsettled the
minds of the townsfolk was the failure of the Rajah's
boats to act at the decisive moment. It was the
diplomatic Kassim who represented the Rajah at the
council. He spoke very little, listened smilingly, very
friendly and impenetrable. During the sitting mes-
sengers kept arriving every few minutes ahnost, with
reports of the invaders' proceedings. Wild and ex-
aggerated rumours were flying: there was a large ship
at the mouth of the river with big guns and many more
men — ^some white, others with black skins and of blood-
thirsty appearance. They were coming with many
more boats to exterminate every living thing. A
sense of near, incomprehensible danger affected the
common people. At one moment there was a panic
in the courtyard amongst the women; shrieking; a
rush; children crying — ^Haji Saman went out to quiet
them. Then a fort sentry fired at something moving on
the river, and nearly kiUed a viUager bringing in his
women-folk in a canoe together with the best of his
domestic utensils and a dozen fowls. This caused
more confusion. Meantime the palaver inside Jim's
house went on in the presence of the girl. Doramin sat
fierce-faced, heavy, looking at the speakers in turn, and
breathing slow like a bull. He didn't speak till the
last, after Kassim had declared that the Rajah's boats
would be called in because the men were required to
0^ defend his master's stockade. Dain Waris in his
father's presence would offer no opinion, though the
girl entreated him in Jim's name to speak out. She
offered him Jim's own men in her anxiety to have these
intruders driven out at once. He only shook his head,
after a glance or two at Doramin. Finally, when the
council broke up it had been decided that the houses
nearest the creek should be strongly occupied to obtain

864 LORD JIM

the command of the enemy's boat. The boat itself was
not to be interfered with openly, so that the robbers on
the hill should be tempted to embark, when a well
directed fire would kill most of them, no doubt. To cut
the escape of those who might survive, and to prevent
more of them coming up, Dain Wans was ordered by
Doramin to take an armed party of Bugis down the
river to a certain spot ten miles below Patusan, and
there form a camp on the shore and blockade the stream
with the canoes. I don't believe for a moment that
Doramin feared the arrival of fresh forces. My opinion
is, that his conduct waa guided solely by his wish to
keep his son out of harm's way. To prevent a rush
being made into the town the construction of a stockade
was to be commenced at daylight at the end of the
street on the left bank. The old naJchoda declared his
intention to command there himself. A distribution
of powder, bullets, and percussion caps was made
immediately under the girl's supervision. Several
messengers were to be despatched in diflFerent directions
after Jim, whose exact whereabouts were unknown.
These men started at dawn, but before that time
Ka^sim had managed to open communications with
the besieged Brown.

^'That accomplished diplomatist and confidant of
the Rajah, on leaving the fort to go back to his master,
took into his boat Cornelius, whom he found slinking
mutely amongst the people in the courtyard. Kassim
had a little plan of his own and wanted him for an
interpreter. Thus it came about that towards morning
Brown, reflecting upon the desperate nature of his
position, heard from the marshy overgrown hollow
an amicable, quavering, strained voice crying — ^in
English — for permission to come up, under a promise
of personal safety and on a very important errand.

LORD JIM 865

He was overjoyed. If he was spoken to he was no
longer a hunted wfld beast. These friendly sounds
took oflF at once the awful stress of vigilant watchful-
ness as of so many blind men not knowing whence the

deathblow might come. He pretended a great re-_ ^

luctance. The voice declared itself *a white nlani^ A /

poor, ruined, old man who had been living here for .^
years.' A mist, wet and chilly, lay on the slopes of the
hill, and after some more shouting from one to the
other. Brown called out, *Come on, then, but alone,
mind!' As a matter of fact — ^he told me, writhing with
rage at the recollection of his helplessness — ^it made no
difiFerence. They couldn't see more than a few yards
before them, and no treachery could make their position
worse. By-and-by Corodiua,. in his week-day attire
of a ragged dirty s^irt and pants, barefooted, with a
broken-rimmed pith hat on his head, was made out
vaguely, sidling up to the defences, hesitating, stopping
to listen in a peering posture. * Come along! You are
safe,' yelled Brown, while his men stared. All their
hopes of life became suddenly centred in that dilapi-
dated, mean new-comer, who in profound silence clam-
bered clumsily over a felled tree-trunk, and shivering,
with his sour mistrustful face, looked about at the knot
of bearded, anxious, sleepless desperadoes.

"Half an hour's confidential talk with Cornelius"]
opened Brown's eyes as to the home affairs of Fatusaa^..;
He was on the alert at once. There were possibilities,
immense possibilities; but before he would talk over
Cornelius's proposals he demanded that some food
should be sent up as a guarantee of good faith. Corne-
lius went off, creeping sluggishly down the hill on the
side of the Rajah's palace, and after some delay a few
of Tunku Allang's men came up, bringing a scanty
supply of rice, chillies, and dried fish. This was im-

866 LORD JIM

measurably better than nothing. Later on Cornelius
returned accompanying Kassim, who stepped out with
an air of perf ectfgood-humoured trustfulness, in sandals,
and muffled up from neck to ankles in dark-blue
sheeting. He shook hands with Brown discreetly, and
the three drew aside for a conference. Brown's men,
recovering their confidence, were slapping each other
on the back, and cast knowing glances at their captain
while they busied themselves with preparations for
cooking.

'^Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much,
but he hated the new order of things still more. It had
occurred to him that these whites, together with the
Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the Bugis
before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general de-
fection of the townsfolk was sure to follow, and the
reign of the white man who protected poor people
would be over. Afterwards the new allies coiild be
dealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow
was perfectly able to perceive the diflFerence of character,
and had seen enough of white men to know that these
new-comers were outcasts, men without country.
Brown preserved a stern and inscrutable demeanour.
When he first heard Cornelius's voice demanding ad-
mittance, it brought merely the hope of a loophole for
escape. In less than an hour other thoughts were
seething in his head. Urged by an extreme necessity,
he had come there to steal food, a few tons of rubber or
gum maybe, perhaps a handful of dollars, and had
found himself enmeshed by deadly dangers. Now in
consequence of these overtures from Kassim he began
to think of stealing the whole country. Some con-
founded fellow had apparently accomplished some-
thing of the kind — single-handed at that. Couldn't
have done it very well though. Perhaps they could

LORD JIM 867

work together — squeeze everything dry and then go out
quietly. In the course of his negotiations with Kassim
he became aware that he was supposed to have a big
ship with plenty of men outside. Kassim begged him
earnestly to have this big ship with his many guns and
men brought up the river without delay for the Rajah's
service. Brown professed hunself wiUing, and on this
basis the negotiation was carried on with mutual dis-
trust. Three times in the course of the morning the
courteous and active Kassim went down to consult the
Rajah and came up busily with his long stride. Brown,
while bargaining, had a sort of grim enjoyment in
thinking of his wretched schooner, with nothing but a
heap of dirt in her hold, that stood for an armed ship,
and a Chinaman and a lame ex-beachcomber of Levuka
on board, who represented all his many men. In the
afternoon he obtained further doles of food, a promise
of some money, and a supply of mats for his men to
make shelters for themselves. They lay down and
snored, protected from the burning sunshine; but
Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees,
feasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river.
There was much loot here. Cornelius, who had made
himself at home in the camp, talked at his elbow, point-
ing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his own
version of Jim's character, and commenting in his own
fashion upon the events of the last three years. Brown,
who, apparently indifferent and gazing away, listened
with attention to every word, could not make out clearly
what sort of man this Jim could be. * What's his name?
Jim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.'
*They call him,' said Cornelius, scornfully, *Tuan Jim
here. As you may say Lord Jim.' *What is he?
Where does he come from?' inquired Brown.. *What
sort of man is he? Is he an Englishman?' 'Yes, yes.

868 LORD JIM

he*s an Englishman. I am an Englishman, too. From
Malacca. He is a fool, f A]ll you have to do is to kill
him and then you are king here. Everything belongs
to him/ explained ComeUus. 'It strikes me he may be
made to share with somebody before very long/ com-
mented Brown half aloud. 'No, no. The proper way
is to kill him the first chance you get, and then you can
do what you like,* Cornelius would insist earnestly. 'I
have liv€^ for many years here, and I am giving you a
friend's advice.'

''In such converse and in gloating over the view of
Patusan, which he had determined in his mind should
become his prey. Brown whiled away most of the after-
noon, his men, meantime, resting. On that day Dain
Waris's fleet of canoes stole one by one under the shore
farthest from the creek, and went down to close the
river against his retreat. Of this Brown was not aware,
and Kassim, who came up the knoll an hour before sun-
set, took good care not to enlighten him. He wanted
the white man's ship to come up the river, and this news,
he feared, would be discouraging. He was very press-
ing with Brown to send the 'order,' offering at the same
time a trusty messenger, who for greater secrecy (as he
explained) would make his way by land to the mouth of
the river and deliver the 'ord^' on board. After some
reflection Brown judged it expedient to tear a page out
of his pocket-book, on which he simply wrote, 'We are
getting on. Big job. Detain the man.' The stolid
youth selected by Kassim for that service performed
it faithfully, and was rewarded by being suddenly
tipped, head first, into the schooner's empty hold by
the ex-beachcomber and the Chinaman, who thereupon
hastened to put on the hatches. What became of him
afterwards Brown did not say."

CHAPTER FORTY

"Brown's object was to gain time by fooling with
Kassim's diplomacy. For doing a real stroke of busi-
ness he could not help thinking the white man was the
person to work with. He could not imagine such a

chap (who must be confoundedly clev^-alter-alLto^t
hold of the natives like th^ [refusing a help that would
do away with the necessity for slow, cautious, risky
cheating, that imposed itself as the only possible line of
conduct for a single-handed man. He, Brown, would
oflFer him the power.(^ No n^aa^ould hesitate. ^Every-
thing was in coming to a clear understanding. Of
course they would share. The idea of there being a
fort — ^all ready to his hand — ^a real fort, with artillery
(he knew this from Cornelius), excited him. Let him
only once get in and . • • He would impose
modest conditions. Not too low, though. The man
was no fool, it seemed. They would work like brothers
till ... till the time came for a quarrel and a shot
that would settle all accounts. With grim impatience
of plunder he wished himself to be talking with the man
now. The land already seemed to hg his to tear to
pieces, squeeze, and throw away «^^ Meantime Kassim
had to be fooled for the sake of food first — ^and for a
second string. But the principal thing was to get some-
thing to eat from day to day. Besides, he was not
averse to begin fighting on that Rajah's account, and
teach a lesson to those people who had received him
with shots. The lust of battle was upon him.

"I am sorry that I can't give you this part of the

860

370 LORD JIM

story, which of course I have mainly from Brown, in
Brown's own words. There was in the broken, violent
speech of that man, unveiling before me his thoughts
with the very hand of Death upon his throat, an un-
disguised ruthlessness of purpose, a strange vengeful
attitude towards his own past, and a blind belief in the
righteousness of his will against all mankind, something
of that feeling which could induce the leader of a horde
of wandering cut-throats to call himself proudly the
Scourge of God. No doubt the natural senseless
ferocity which is the basis of such a character was ex-
asperated by failure, ill-luck, and the recent privations,
as well as by the desperate position in which he found
himself; but what was most remarkable of all was this,
that while he planned treacherous alliances, had already
settled in his own mind the fate of the white man, and
intrigued in an overbearing, offhand manner with
Kassim, one could perceive that what he had really
desired, almost in spite of himself, was to play havoc
with that jungle town which had defied him, to see it
strewn over with corpses and enveloped in flames.
Listening to his pitiless, panting voice, I could imagine
how he must have looked at it from the hillock, peopling
it with images of murder and rapine. The part nearest
to the creek wore an abandoned aspect, though as a
matter of fact every house concealed a few armed men
on the alert. Suddenly beyond the stretch of waste
ground, interspersed with small patches of low dense
bush, excavations, heaps of rubbish, with trodden
paths between, a man, solitary and looking very small,
strolled out into the deserted opening of the street
between the shut-up, dark, lifeless buildings at the end.
Perhaps one of the inhabitants, who had fled to the other
bank of the river, coming back for some object of do-
mestic use. Evidently he supposed himself quite safe

LORD JIM 371

at that distance from the hill on the other side of the
creek. A light stockade, set up hastily, was just round
the turn of the street, full of his friends. He moved
leisurely. Brown saw him, and instantly called to his
side the Yankee deserter, who acted as a sort of second
in command. This lanky, loose-jointed feUow came
forward, wooden-faced, trailing his rifle lazily. When
he understood what was wanted from him a homicidal
and conceited smile uncovered his teeth, making two
deep folds down his sallow, leathery cheeks. He
prided himself on being a dead shot. He dropped on
one knee, and taking aim from a steady rest through
the unlopped branches of a felled tree, fired, and at
once stood up to look. The man, far away, tmmed his
head to the report, made another step forward, seemed
to hesitate, and abruptly got down on his hands and
knees. In the silence that fell upon the sharp crack of
the rifle, the dead shot, keeping his eyes fixed upon the
quarry, guessed that *this there coon's health would
never be a source of anxiety to his friends any more.*
The man's limbs were seen to move rapidly under hia ,..^
body in an endeavour to run on all-foui^/ln that
empty space arose a multitudinous shout^ dismay and
surprise. The man sank flat, face down, and moved no
more. *That showed them what we could do,' said
Brown to me. * Struck the fear of sudden death into
them. That was what we wanted. They were two
hundred to one, and this gave them something to think
over for the night. Not one of them had an idea of
such a long shot before. That beggar belonging to the
Rajah scouted down-hill with his eyes hanging out of
his head.'

"As he was teUing me this he tried with a shakmg
hand to wipe the thin foam on his blue lips. 'Two
hundred to one. Two hundred to one . . . strike

372 LORD JIM

terror . . . terror, terror, I tell you. . . /
His own eyes were starting out of their sockets. He
fell back, clawing the air with skinny fingers, sat up
again, bowed and hairy, glared at me sideways like some
man-beast of folklore, with open mouth in his miserable
and awful agony before he got his speech back after
that fit. There are sights one never forgets.

"Furthermore, to draw the enemy's fire and locate
such parties as might have been hiding in the bushes
along the creek. Brown ordered the Solomon Islander
to go down to the boat and bring an oar, as you send
a spaniel after a stick into the water. This failed,
and the fellow came back without a single shot having
been fired at him from anywhere. * There's nobody,'
opined some of the men. It is 'onnatural,' remarked
the Yankee. Kassim had gone, by that time, very
much impressed, pleased, too, and also uneasy. Pursu-
ing his tortuous policy, he had despatched a message
to Dain Waris warning him to look out for the white
men's ship, which, he had had information, was about
to come up the river. He minimised its strength and
exhorted him to oppose its passage. This double-
dealing answered his purpose, which was to keep the
Bugis forces divided and to weaken them by fighting.
On the other hand, he had in the course of that day
sent word to the assembled Bugis chiefs in town, assur-
ing them that he was trying to induce the invaders to
retire; his messages to the fort asked earnestly for
powder for the Rajah's men. It was a long time since
Tunku Allang had had ammunition for the score or so
of old muskets rusting in their arm-racks in the audi-
ence-hall. The open intercourse between the hill and
the palace unsettled all the minds. It was already time
for men to take sides, it began to be said. There would
soon be much bloodshed, and thereafter great trouble

LORD JIM 373

for many people. The social fabric of orderiy, peace-
ful life, when every man was sure of to-morrow, the
edifice raised by Jim's hands, seemed on that evening
ready to collapse into a ruin reeking with blood. The
poorer folk were already taking to the bush or flying up
the river. A good many of the upper class judged it
necessary to go and pay their court to the Rajah. The
Rajah's youths jostled them rudely. Old Tunku
Allang, almost out of his mind with fear and indecision,
either kept a sullen silence or abused them violently for
daring to come with empty hands : they departed very
much frightened; only old Doramin kept his' country-
men together and pursued his tactics inflexibly. En-
throned in a big chair behind the unprovised stockade,
he issued his orders in a deep veiled rumble, unmoved,
like a deaf man, in the flying rumours.

^'Dusk fell, hiding first the body of the dead man,
which had been left lying with arms outstretched as if
nailed to the ground, and then the revolving sphere of
the night rolled smoothly over Fatusan and came to a
rest, showering the glitter of countless worlds upon the
earth. Again, in the exposed part of the town big fires
blazed along the only street, revealing from distance to
distance upon their glares the falling straight lines of
roofs, the fragments of wattled walls jumbled in con-
fusion, here and there a whole hut elevated in the glow
upon the vertical black stripes of a group of high piles;
and all this line of dwellings, revealed in patches by the
swaying flames, seemed to flicker tortuously away up-
river into the gloom at the heart of the land. A great
silence, in which the looms of successive fires played
without noise, extended into the darkness at the foot
of the hill; but the other bank of the river, all dark save
for a solitary bonfire at the river-front before the fort,
sent out into the air an increasing tremor that might

S74 LORD JIM

have been the stamping of a multitude of feet, the hum
of many voices, or the fall of an inmiensely distant
waterfidl. It was then. Brown confessed to me, while,
turning his back on his men, he sat looking at it all, that
notwithstanding his disdain, his ruthless faith in him-
self, a feeling came over him that at last he had run his
head against a stone wall. Had his boat been afloat at
the time, he believed he would have tried to steal away,
taking his chances of a long chase down the river and of
starvation at sea. It was very doubtful whether he
would have succeeded in getting away. However, he
didn't try this. For another moment he had a passing
thought of trying to rush the town, but he perceived
very well that in the end he would find himself in the
lighted street, where they would be shot down like dogs
from the houses. They were two hundred to one — ^he
thought, while his men, huddling round two heaps of
smouldering embers, munched the last of the bananas
and roasted the few yams they owed to Kassim's di-
plomacy. Cornelius sat amongst them dozing sulkily.
"Then one of the whites remembered that some
tobacco had been left in the boat, and, encouraged by
the impunity of the Solomon Islander, said he would
go to fetch it. At this all the others shook off their
despondency. Brown applied to, said, *Go, and be
d — d to you,' scornfully. He didn't think there was any
danger in going to the creek in the dark. The man
threw a leg over the tree-trunk and disappeared. A
moment later he was heard clambering into the boat
and then clambering out. *I've got it,' he cried. A
flash and a report at the very foot of the hill followed.
*I am hit,' yelled the man. *Look out, look out — ^I am
hit,' and instantly all the rifles went off. The hill
squirted fire and noise into the night like a little volcano,
and when Brown and the Yankee with curses and cuffs

LORD JIM 875

stopped the panic-stricken firing, a profound, weary
groan floated up from the creek, succeeded by a plaint
whose heart-rending sadness was like some poison turn-
ing the blood cold in the veins. Then a strong voice
pronounced several distinct incomprehensible words
somewhere beyond the creek. *Let no one fire,*
shouted Brown. * What does it mean?' . . . *Do
you hear on the hill? Do you hear? Do you hear?*
repeated the voice three times. Cornelius translated,
and then prompted the answer. ^ Speak,* cried Brown,
^we hear.* Then the voice, declaiming in the sonorous
inflated tone of a herald, and shifting continually on the
edge of the vague waste-land, proclaimed that between
the men of the Bugis nation living in Fatusan and the
white men on the hill and those with them, there would
be no faith, no compassion, no speech, no peace. A
bush rustled; a haphazard volley rang out. ^Dam*
foolishness,* muttered the Yankee, vexedly grounding
the butt. Cornelius translated. The wounded man
below the hill, after crying out twice, 'Take me up!
take me up!* went on complaining in moans. While
he had kept on the blackened earth of the slope and
afterwards crouching in the boat, he had been safe
enough. It seems that in his joy at finding tobacco
he forgot himself and jumped out on her off-side, as
it were. The white boat, lying high and dry, showed
him up; the creek was no more than seven yards wide
in that place, and there happened to be a man crouching
in the bush on the other bank.

**He was a Bugis of Tondano only lately come to
Fatusan, and a relation of the man shot in the after-
noon. That famous long shot had indeed appalled the
beholders. The man in utter security had been struck
down, in full view of his friends, dropping with a joke
on his lips, and they seemed to see in the act an atrocity

876 LORD JIM

which had stirred a bitter rage. That relation of his,
Si-Lapa by name, was then with Doramin in the
stockade only a few feet away. You who know these
chaps must admit that the fellow showed an unusual
pluck by volunteering to carry the message, alone, in the
dark. Creeping across the open ground, he had de-
viated to the left and found himself opposite the boat.
He was startled when Brown's man shouted. He came
to a sittfaig position with his gun to his shoulder, and
when the other jumped out, exposing himself, he pulled
the trigger and lodged three jagged slugs point-blank
into the poor wretch's stomach. Then, lying flat on his
face, he gave himself up for dead, while a thin hail of
lead chopped and swished the bushes close on his right
hand; afterwards he delivered his speech shouting, bent
double, dodging all the time in cover. With the last
word he leaped sideways, lay close for a while, and
afterwards got back to the houses unharmed, having
achieved on that night such a renown as his children
will not willingly allow to die.

"And on the hill the forlorn band let the two little
heaps of embers go out under their bowed heads.
They sat dejected on the ground with compressed lips
and downcast eyes, listening to their comrade below.
He was a strong man and died hard, with moans now
loud, now sinking to a strange confidential note of pain.
Sometimes he shrieked, and again, aftA* a period of
silence, he could be heard muttering deliriously a long
and unintelligible complaint. Never for a moment did
he cease.

"* What's the good? ' Brown had said unmoved once,
seeing the Yankee, who had been swearing under his
breath, prepare to go down. * That's so,' assented the
deserter, reluctantly desisting. ' There's no encourage-
ment for wounded men here. Only his noise is cal-

LORD JIM 877

ciliated to make all the others thmk too much of the
hereafter, cap'n.* * Water!' cried the wounded man m
an extraordinarily clear vigorous voice, and then went
oflF moaning feebly. *Ay, water. Water will do it/
muttered the other to himself, resignedly. * Plenty by-
and-by. The tide is flowing/

^*At last the tide flowed, silencing the plaint and
the cries of pain, and the dawn was near when Brown,
sitting with his chin in the palm of his hand before
Patusan, as one might stare at the unscalable side of
a mountain, heard the brief ringing bark of a brass
six-pounder far away in town somewhere. * What's
this?' he asked of Cornelius, who hung about him.
Cornelius listened. A muffled roaring shout rolled
down-river over the town; a big drum began to throb,
and others responded, pulsating and dronmg. Tiny
scattered lights began to twinkle in the dark half of
the town, while the part lighted by the loom of fires
hunmied with a deep and prolonged murmur. *He
has come,' said Cornelius. *What? Already? Are
you sure?' Brown asked. *Yes! yes! Sure. Listen
to the noise.' * What are they making that row about? '
pursued Brown. *For joy,' snorted Cornelius; * he is a
very great man, but all the same, he knows no more than
a child, and so they make a great noise to please him,
because they know no better.* *Look here,* said
Brown, ^how is one to get at him?' ^He shall come to
talk to you,' Cornelius declared. * What do you mean?
Come down here strolling as it were?' Cornelius
nodded vigorously in the dark. *Yes. He will come
straight here and talk to you. He is just like a fool.
You shall see what a fool he is.* Brown was incredu-
lous. ^ You shall see; you shall see,* repeated Cornelius.
*He is not afraid — ^not afraid of anything. He will
come and order you to leave his people alone. Every-

878 LORD JIM

body must leave his people alone. He is like a little
child. He will come to you straight.' Alas! he
knew Jim well — ^that 'mean little skunk/ as Brovni
called him to me. *Yes, certainly/ he pursued with
jfdour, 'and then, captain, you teU that tall man with
a gun to shoot him. Just you kill him, and you shall
Av^ryKf) ^v flo much that you can do anything

'otx like with them afterwards — get what you like — ^go
^y when you like. Ha! ha! ha! Fine. • • •'

[e aknost danced with unpatience and eagerness; and
Brown, looking over his shoulder at him, could see,
shown up by the pitiless dawn, his men drenched with
dew, sitting amongst the cold ashes and the litter of the
camp, haggard, cowed, and in rags."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

" To THE very last moment, till the full day came upon
them with a spring, the fires on the west bank blazed
bright and clear; and then Brown saw in a knot of
coloured figures motionless between the advanced
houses a man in European clothes, in a helmet, all
white. ^That's him; look! look!' Cornelius said
excitedly. All Brown's men had sprung up and
crowded at his back with lustreless eyes. The group
of vivid colours and dark faces with the white figure
in the midst were observing the knoll. Brown could
see naked arms being raised to shade the eyes and other
brown arms pointing. What should he do? He looked
around, and the forests that faced him on all sides walled
the cock-pit of an unequal contest. He looked once
more at his men. A contempt, a weariness, the desire
of life, the wish to try for one more chance — ^for some
other grave — struggled in his breast. From the out-
Une the figure presented it seemed to him that the white
man there, backed up by all the power of the land, was
examining his position through binoculars. Brown
jumped up on the log, throwing his arms up, the palms
outwards. The coloured group closed round the white
man, and fell back twice before he got clear of them,
walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on
the log till Jim, appearing and disappearing between the
patches of thorny scrub, had nearly reached the creek;
then Brown jumped off and went down to meet him on
his side.

''They met, I should think, not very far from the

870

^

S80 LORD JIM

I place, perhaps on the very spot, where Jim took the
t second desperate leap of his life— the leap that landed
f him into the life of Fatusan, into the trust, the love,
I the confidence of the people. They faced each other
j across the creek, and with steady eyes tried to under-
stand each other before they opened their lips. Their
antagonism must have been expressed in their glances;
I know that Brown hated Jim at first sight. Whatever
hopes he might have had vanished at once. This was
not the man he had expected to see. He hated him for
this — ^and in a checked flannel shirt with sleeves cut off
at the elbows, grey bearded, with a sunken, sun-
blackened face — ^he cursed in his heart the other's youth
and assurance, his clear eyes and his untroubled bearing.
That fellow had got in a long way before him ! He did
not look like a man who would be willing to give any-
thing for assistance. He had all the advantages on his
side — ^possession, security, power; he was on the side
of an overwhelming force! He was not hungry and
desperate, and he did not seem in the least afraid. And
there was something in the very neatness of Jim's
clothes, from the white helmet to the canvas leggings
and the pipe-clayed shoes, which in Brown's sombre
irritated eyes seemed to belong to things he had in the
very shaping of his life contemned and flouted.

"'Who are you?* asked Jim at last, speaking in his
usual voice. *My name's Brown,' answered the other,
loudly; * Captain Brown. What's yours?' and Jim
after a little pause went on quietly, as if he had not
heard: *What made you come here?' *You want to
know,* said Brown bitterly. *It's easy to tell. Hunger.
And what made you?'

"*The fellow started at this,* said Brown, relating to
me the opening of this strange conversation between
those two men, separated only by the muddy bed of

LORD JIM S81

a creek, but standing on the opposite poles of that
conception of life which includes all mankind— 'The
fellow started at this and got very red in the face. Too
big to be questioned, I suppose. I told him that if he
looked upon me as a dead man with whom you may take
liberties, he himself was not a whit better oflF really. I
had a fellow up there who had a bead drawn on him all
the time, and only waited for a sign from me. There
was nothing to be shocked at in this. He had come
down of his own freewill. "Let us agree," said I,
"that we are both dead men, and let us talk on that
basis, as equals. We are all equal before death," I
said. I admitted I was there like a rat in a trap, but we
had been driven to it, and even a trapped rat can give a
bite. He caught me up in a moment. "Not if you
don't go near the trap till the rat is dead." I told him
that sort of game was good enough for these native
friends of his, but I would have thought him too white
to serve even a rat so. Yes, I had wanted to talk with
him. Not to beg for my life, though. My fellows
were — well — what they were — men like himself, any-
how. All we wanted from him was to come on in the
devil's name and have it out. "God d — ^n it," said I,
while he stood there as still as a wooden post, "you don't
want to come out here every day with your glasses to
count how many of us are left on our feet. Come.
Either bring your infernal crowd along or let us go out
and starve in the open sea, by God! You have been
white once, for all your tall talk of this being your
own people and you being one with them. Are you?
And what the devil do you get for it; what is it you've
found here that is so d — d precious? Hey? You
don't want us to come down here perhaps— do you?
You are two hundred to one. You don't want us to
come down into the open. Ah! I promise you we

382 LORD JIM

shall give you some sport before you've done. You
talk about me making a cowardly set upon unoffending
people. What's that to me that they are unoffending
when I am starving for next to no offence? But I
am not a coward. Don't you be one. Bring them
along or, by all the fiends, we shall yet manage to
send half your unoffending town to heaven with us
in smoke!"*

"He was terrible — ^relating this to me — ^this tortured
skeleton of a man drawn up together with his face over
his knees, upon a miserable bed in that wretched hovd,
and lifting his head to look at me with malignant
triumph.

"* That's what I told him — ^I knew what to say,'
he began again, feebly at first, but working himself up
with incredible speed into a fiery utterance of his scorn.
* We aren't going into the forest to wander like a string of
living skeletons dropping one after another for ants to
go to work upon us before we are fairly dead. Oh,
no! . . . "You don't deserve a better fate," he
said. "And what do you deserve," I shouted at him,
"you that I find skulking here with your mouth full of
your responsibility, of innocent lives, of your infernal
duty? What do you know more of me than I know of
you? I came here for food. D'ye hear? — ^food to fill
our bellies. And what did you come for? What did
you ask for when you came here? We don't ask you
for anything but to give us a fight or a clear road to go
back whence we came. . . ." "I would fight with
you now," says he, pulling at his little moustache.
"And I would let you shoot me, and welcome," I said.
"This is as good a jumping-off place for me as another.
J am sick of my infernal luck. But it would be too
^ [ easy. There are my men in the same boat — and, by
* * 1 God, I am not the sort to jump out of trouble and leave

■>

, LORD JIM S8S

them in a d — d lurch," I said. He stood thinking for a
while and then wanted to know what I had done ("out
there," he says, tossing his head down-stream) to be
hazed about so. '^Have we met to tell each other the
story of our lives?" I asked him. "Suppose you
begin. No? Well, I am sure I don't want to hear.
Keep it to yourself. I know it is no better than mine.
I've lived — ^and so did you though you talk as if you
were one of those people that should have wings so as
to go about without touching the dirty earth. Well —
it is dirty. I haven't got any wings. I am here b e-
ca use I was afraid once in my life . Want to know wEat
of? Of a prison. That scares me, and you may know
it — ^if it's any good to you. I won't ask you what scared
you into tlds infernal hole, where you seem to have
found pretty pickings. That's your luck and this is
mine — ^the privilege to beg for the favour of being shot
quickly, or else kicked out to go free and starve in my
own way.'" . • .

"His debilitated body shook with an exultation
so vehement, so assured, and so malicious that it seemed
to have driven off the death waiting for him in that hut.
The corpse of his mad self-love uprose from rags and
destitution as from the dark horrors of a tomb. It is
impossible to say how much he Ued to Jim then, how
much he lied to me now — and to himself always.
Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the
truth of every passion wants some pretence to make it
live. Standing at the gate of the other world in tEe
guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's face,
he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity
of scorn and revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He
had overcome them all — men, women, savages, traders,
ruffians, missionaries — and Jim — ^that beefy-faced beg-
gar. I did not begrudge him this triumph in articulo

S84 LORD JIM

mortis, this almost posthumous illusion of having
trampled all the earth under his feet. While he was
boasting to me, in his sordid and repulsive agony, I
couldn't help thinking of the chuckling talk relating to
the time of his greatest splendour when, during a year
or more. Gentleman Brown's ship was to be seen, for
many days on end, hovering off an islet befringed with
green upon azure, with the dark dot of the mission-house
on a white beach; while Gentleman Brown, ashore, was
casting his spells over a romantic girl for whom Melane-
sia had been too much, and giving hopes of a remarkable
conversion to her husband. The poor man, some time
or other, had been heard to express the intention of
winning "Captain Brown to a better way of life.* . • .
*Bag Grentleman Brown for Glory* — as a leery-eyed
loafer expressed it once — *]ust to let them see up above
what a Western Pacific trading skipper looks like.*
And this was the man, too, who had run off with a dying
woman, and had shed tears over her body. * Carried
on like a big baby,* his then mate was never tired of
telling, *and where the fun came in may I be kicked to
death by diseased Kanakas if I know. Why, gents!
she was too far gone when he brought her aboard to
know him; she just lay there on her back in his bimk
staring at the beam with awful shining eyes — and then
she died. Dam* bad sort of fever, I guess. . . .*
11 remembered all these stories while, wiping his matted
lump of a beard with a livid hand, he was telling me
from his noisome couch how he got round, got in, got
home, on that confounded, immaculate, don*t-you-
touch-me sort of fellow. He admitted that he couldn't
be scared, but there was a way, *as broad as a turnpike,
to get in and shake his twopenny soul aroimd and inside
out and upside down — ^by God!

9 99

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

"I don't think he could do more than perhaps look
upon that straight path. He seemed to have been
puzzled by what he saw, for he interrupted himself
in his narrative more than once to exclaim, *He nearly
slipped from me there. I could not make him out.
Who was he ? * And after glaring at-meLwildly he would
go on, jubilating and sneering. ^ To me the convefsatiott^
of these two across the creek appears now as the deadli-
est kind of duel 6n which Fate looked on with her cold-
eyed knowledge of the end. No, he didn't turn Jim's
soul inside out, but I am much mistaken if the spirit
so utterly out of his reach had not been made to taste
to the full the bitterness of that contest. These were
the emissaries with whom the world he had renounced
was pursuing him in his retreat. White men from *out
there' where he did not think himself good enough to
live. This was all that came to him — ^a menace, a
shock, a danger to his work. I suppose it is this sad,
half-resentful, half-resigned feeling, piercing through
the few words Jim said now and then, that puzzled
Brown so much in the reading of his character. Some
great men owe most of their greatness to the ability
of detecting in those they destine for their tools the
exact quality of strength that matters for their work,
and Brown, as though he had been really great, had a
Satanic gift of finding out the best and the weakest spot
in his victims. He admitted to me that Jim wasn't of
the sort that can be got over by truckling, and accord-
ingly he took care to show himself as a man confronting

885

386 LORD JIM

without dismay ill-luck, censure, and disaster. The
smuggling of a few guns was no great crime, he pointed
out. As to coming to Patusan, who had the right to
say he hadn't come to beg? The infernal people here
let loose at him from both banks without staying to
ask questions. He made the point brazenly, for, in
truth, Dain Waris's energetic action had prevented the
greatest calamities; because Brown told me distinctly
that, perceiving the size of the place, he had resolved
instantly in his mind that as soon as he had gained a
footing he would set fire right and left, and begin by
shooting down everything living in sight, in order to
cow and terrify the population. The disproportion of
forces was so great that this was the only way giving
him the slightest chance of attaining his ends — ^he
argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this.
As to the hardships and starvation they had gone
through, these had been very real; it was enough to
look at his band. He made, at the sound of a shrill
whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the
logs in full view, so that Jim could see them. For the
killing of the man, it had been done — ^well, it had — but
was not this war, bloody war — in a comer? and the
fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest,
not like that poor devil of his lying now in the creek.
They had to listen to him dying for six hours, with his
entiails torn with slugs. At any rate this was a life
for a life. . . . And all this was said with the
weariness, with the recklessness of a man spurred on
and on by ill-luck till he cares not where he runs.
When he asked Jim, with a sort of brusque despairing
frankness, whether he himself — straight now — didn't
\ understand that when *it came to saving one's life in
the dark, one didn't care who else went — three, thirty,
three hundred people' — it was as if a demon had been

LORD JIM 387

whispering advice in his ear. 'I made him wince/
boasted Brown to me. 'He very soon left off coming
the righteous over me. He just stood there with
nothing to say, and looking as black as thunder — ^not
at me — on the ground.' He asked Jim whether he had
nothing fishy in his life to remember that he was so
danmedly hard upon a man trying to get out of a deadly
hole by the first means that came to hand — ^and so on,
and so on. And there ran through the rough talk a
vein of subtle reference to their common blood, an
assumption of common experience; a sickening sug-
gestion of com mon guilt, of secre t kno wledge that was
likeAjKmd of Iheir minds and of the ' ' ^

"At last llrown tlirew himself down full length and
watched Jim out of the comers of his eyes. Jim on his
side of the creek stood thinking and switching his leg.
The houses in view were silent, as if a pestilence had
swept them clean of every breath of life; but many
invisible eyes were turned, from within, upon the two
men with the creek between them, a stranded white
boat, and the body of the third man half sunk in the
mud. On the river canoes were moving again, for
Patusan was recovering its belief in the stability of
earthly institutions since the return of the white lord.
The right bank, the platforms of the houses, the rafts
moored along the shores, even the roofs of bathing-huts,
were covered with people that, far away out of earshot
and almost out of sight, were straining their eyes to-
wards the knoll beyond the Rajah's stockade. Within
the wide irregular ring of forests broken in two places by
the sheen of the river there was a silence. *WiU you
promise to leave the coast?' Jim asked. Brown
lifted and let fall his hand, giving everything up as it
were — ^accepting the inevitable. *And surrender your
arms ? ' Jim went on. Brown sat up and glared across.

SSS LORD JIM

^Surrender our anns! Not till you come to take them
out ot our stiff hands. You think I am gone crazy with
funk? (%> no! That and the rags I stand in is all I
have got in the world, besides a few more breechloaders
oa board; and I expect to sell the lot in Madagascar, if
I ever get so far — ^begging my way from ship to ship/

** Jim said nothing to this. At last, throwing away
the switch he held in his hand, he said, as if speaking
to himself, *I don't know whether I have the power.'
• • . *You don't know! And you wanted me
just now to give up my arms I That's good, too,' cried
Brown. ^Suppose they say one thing to you, and do
the other thing to me.' He calmed down markedly.
*I daresay you have the power, or what's the meaning
of all this talk?' he continued. 'What did you come
down here for? To pass the time of day? '

"* Very well,* said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after
a long silence. 'You shall have a clear road or else a
clear fight.' He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the
hill till he had seen Jim disappear between the first
houses. He never set his eyes on him again. On his
way back he met Cornelius slouching down with his
bead between his shoulders. He stopped before
Brown. 'Why didn't you kill him?' he demanded in a
sour, discontented voice. 'Because I could do better
than that,' Brown said with an amused smile. 'Never!
never!' protested Cornelius with energy. 'Couldn't.
I have lived here for many years.' Brown looked up at
him curiously. There were many sides to the life of
that place in arms against him; things he would never
find out. Cornelius slunk past dejectedly in the
direction of the river. He was now leaving his new
friends; he accepted the disappointing course of events
with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more

LORD JIM S89

together his little yellow old face; and as he went down
he glanced askant here and there, never giving up his
fixed idea.

"Henceforth events move fast without a check,
flowing from the very hearts of men like a stream from
a dark source, and we see Jim amongst them, mostly
through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had
watched him, too, but her life is too much entwined
with his: there is her passion, her wonder, her anger,
and, above all, her fear and her unforgiving love. Of
the faithful servant, uncomprehending as the rest of
them, it is the fidelity alone that comes into play; a
fidelity and a belief in his lord so strong that even
amazement is subdued to a sort of saddened acceptance
of a mysterious failure. He has eyes only for one figure,
and through all the mazes of bewilderment he pre-
serves his air of guardianship, of obedience, of care.

"His master came back from his talk with the white
men, walking slowly towards the stockade in the street.
Everybody was rejoiced to see him return, for while he
was away every man had been afraid not only of him
being killed, but also of what would come after. Jim
went into one of the houses, where old Doramin had
retired, and remained alone for a long time with the
head of the Bugis settlers. No doubt he discussed the
course to follow with him then, but no man was present
at the conversation. Only Tamb' Itam, keeping as
close to the door as he could, heard his master say, 'Yes.
I shall let all the people know that such is my wish;
but I spoke to you, O Doramin, before all the others, and
alone; for you know my heart as well as I know yours
and its greatest desire. And you know well also tiiat I
have no thought but for the people's good.' Then his
master, lifting the sheeting in the doorway, went out,
and he, Tamb' Itam, had a glimpse of old Doramin

S90 LORD JIM

withiiiy sitting in the chair with his hands on his knees,
and looking between his feet. Afterwards he followed
his master to the fort, where all the principal Bugis and
Patusan inhabitants had been summoned for a talk.
Tamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fight-
ing. *What was it but the taking of another hill?' he
exclaimed regretfully. However, in the town many
hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced,
by the sight of so many brave men making ready to
fight, to go away. It would be a good thing if they
went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made known
before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the
beating of the big drum there, the fear that had hung
over Patusan had broken and subsided like a wave on a
rock, leaving the seething foam of excitement, curiosity,
and endless speculation. Half of the population had
been ousted out of their homes for purposes of defence,
and were living in the street on the left side of the river,
crowding round the fort, and in momentary expectation
of seeing their abandoned dwellings on the threatened
bank burst into flames. The general anxiety was to
see the matter settled quickly. Food, through Jewel's
care, had been served out to the refugees. Nobody
knew what their white man would do. Some remarked
that it was worse than in Sherif Ali's war. Then many
people did not care; now everybody had something to
lose. The movements of canoes passing to and fro
between the two parts of the town were watched with
interest. A couple of Bugis war-boats lay anchored in
the middle of the stream to protect the river, and a
thread of smoke stood at the bow of each; the men in
them were cooking their midday rice when Jim, after
his interviews with Brown and Doramin, crossed the
river and entered by the water-gate of his fort. The
people inside crowded round him so that he could hardly

LORD JIM 391

make his way to the house. They had not seen him
before, because on his arrival during the night he had
only exchanged a few words with the girl, who had come
down to the landing-stage for the purpose, and had
then gone on at once to join the chiefs and the fighting
men on the other bank. People shouted greetings
after him. One old woman raised a laugh by pushing
her way to the front madly and enjoining him in a
scolding voice to see to it that her two sons, who were
with Doramin, did not come to harm at the hands of the
robbers. Several of the bystanders tried to pull her
away, but she struggled and cried, *Let me go. What
is this, O Muslims? This laughter is unseemly. Are
they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?'
'Let her be,' said Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he
said slowly, * Everybody shall be safe.' He entered the
house before the great sigh, and the loud murmurs of
satisfaction, had died out.

"" There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown
should have his way clear back to the sea. His fate,
revolted, was forcing his hand. He had for the first
time to affirm his will in the face of out-spoken op-
position. 'There was much talk, and at first my
master was silent,' Tamb' Itam said. 'Darkness
came, and then I lit the candles on the long table. The
chiefs sat on each side, and the lady remained by my
master's right hand.'

"When he began to speak the unaccustomed difficulty
seemed only to fix his resolve more inmiovably. The
white men were now waiting for his answer on the hill.
Their chief had spoken to him in the language of his
own people, making clear many things difficult to ex-
plain in any other speech. They were erring men whom
suffering had made blind to right and wrong. It is
true that lives had been lost already, but why lose more?

S92 LORD JIM

He declared to his hearers, the assembled heads of the
people, that their welfare was his welfare, their losses
his losses, their mourning his mourning. He looked
round at the grave listening faces and told them to
remember that they had fought and worked side by
side. They knew his courage . . • Here a mur-
mur interrupted him • • • And that he had never
deceived them. For many years they had dwelt to-
gether. He loved the land and the people living in it
with a very great love. He was ready to answer with
his life for any harm that should come to them if the
white men with beards were allowed to retire. They
were evil-doers, but their destiny had been evil, too.
Had he ever advised them ill? Had his words ever
brought suffering to the people? he asked. He be-
lieved that it would be best to let these whites and
their followers go with their lives. It would be a
small gift. 'I whom you have tried and found always
true ask you to let them go.* He turned to Doramin.
The old nakhoda made no movement. *Then,* said
Jim, *call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend, for in
this business I shall not lead.'*'

4fy/

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

*'Tamb' Itam behind his chair was thunderstruck.
The declaration produced an immense sensation. 'Let
them go because this is best in my knowledge which has
never deceived you,* Jim insisted. There was a silence.
In the darkness of the courtyard could be heard the
subdued whispering, shuffling noise of many people.
Doramin raised his heavy head and said that there was
no more reading of hearts than touching the sky with the
hand, but — ^he consented. The others gave their opinion
in turn. 'It is best,' 'Let them go,' and so on. But
most of them simply said that they 'believed Tuan Jim.'

"In this simple form of assent to his will lies the
whole gist of the situation; their creed, his truth; and
the testimony to that faithfulness which made him in
his own eyes the equal of the impeccable men who never
fall out of the ranks. Stein's words, 'Romantic! —
Romantic ! ' seem to ring over those distances that will
never give him up now to a world indifferent to his fail-
ing and his virtues, and to that ardent and clinging
affection that refuses him the dole of tears in the be-
wilderment of a great grief and of eternal separation.
From the moment the sheer truthfulness of his last
thre ^ years o f life carries the day against the ignorance,
the fear, and the anger of men, he appears no longer to
me as I saw him last — a white speck catching all the
dim light left upon a sombre coast and the darkened
sea — ^but greater and more pitiful in the loneliness of his
soul, that remains even for her who loved him best a
cruel and insoluble mystery.

81»

394 LORD JIM

"It is evident that he did not mistrust Brown; there
was no reason to doubt the story, whose truth seemed
warranted by the rough frankness, by a sort of virile
sincerity in aocepting the morality and the consequences
of his ^t&t^But Jim did not know the almost incon-
ceivable egotism of the man which made him, when re-
sisted and foiled in his will, mad with the indignant and
revengeful rage of ^^tHwarted autocjrat. But if Jim did
not mistrust Brown, ne was evidently anxious that some
misunderstanding should not occur, ending perhaps in
collision and bloodshed. It was for this reason that
directly the Malay chiefs had gone he asked Jewel to get
him something to eat, as he was going out of the fort to
take conmiand in the town. On her remonstrating
against this on the score of his fatigue, he said that
something might happen for which he would never for-
give himself. 'I am responsible ior^^veiy Ufe in the
land/ he said. He was moody at first; she servedtiin
with her own hands, taking the plates and dishes (of the
dinner-service presented him by Stein) from Tamb'
Itam. He brightened up after a while; told her she
would be again in command of the fort for another
night. * There's no sleep for us, old girl,* he said,
* while our people are in danger.' Later on he said
jokingly that she was the best man of them all. *If
you and Dain Waris had done what you wanted, not
one of these poor devils would be alive to-day.' *Are
they very bad?' she asked, leaning over his chair.
*Men act badly sometimes without being much worse
than others,' he said after some hesitation.

"Tamb' Itam followed his master to the landing-
stage outside the fort. The night was clear, but with-
out a moon, and the middle of the river was dark, while
the water under each bank reflected the light of many
fires ^ as on a night of Ramadan,' Tamb' Itam said.

LORD JIM 395

War-boats drifted silently in the dark lane or, anchored,
floated motionless with a loud ripple. That night there
was much paddling in a canoe and walking at his
master's heels for Tamb* Itam : up and down the street
they tramped, where the fires were burning, inland on
the outskirts of the town where small parties of men
kept guard in the fields. Tuan Jim gave his orders and
was obeyed. Last of all they went to the Rajah's
stockade, which a detachment of Jim's people manned
on that night. The old Rajah had fled early in the
morning with most of his women to a small house he had
near a jungle village on a tributary stream. Kassim,
left behind, had attended the coimcil with his air of
diligent activity to explain away the diplomacy of the
day before. He was considerably cold-shouldered, but
managed to preserve his smiling, quiet alertness, and
professed himself highly delighted when Jim told him
sternly that he proposed to occupy the stockade on that
night with his own men. After the coimcil broke up he
was heard outside accosting this and that departing chief,
and speaking in a loud, gratified tone of the Rajah's
property being protected in the Rajah's absence.

^' About ten or so Jim's men marched in. The
stockade conunanded the mouth of the creek, and Jim
meant to remain there till Brown had passed below.
A small fire was lit on the fiat, grassy point outside the
wall of stakes, and Tamb' Itam placed a little folding-
stool for his master. Jim told him to try and sleep.
Tamb' Itam got a mat and lay down a little way off;
but he could not sleep, though he knew he had to go on
an important journey before the night was out. His
master walked to and fro before the fiire with bowed
head and with his hands behind his back. His face was
sad. Whenever his master approached him Tamb'
Itam pretended to sleep, not wishing his master to know

S96 LORD JIM

he had been watched. At last his master stood still,
looking down on him as he lay, and said softly, *It is
time.*

^'Tamb' Itam arose directly and made his prepa-
rations. His mission was to go down the river, preced-
ing Brown's boat by an hour or more, to tell Dain
Waris finally and formally that the whites were to be
allowed to pass out unmolested. Jim would not trust
anybody else with that service. Before starting Tamb*
Itam, more as a matter of form (since his position about
Jim made him perfectly known), asked for a token.
'Because, Tuan,' he said, Hhe message is important,
and these are thy very words I carry.* His master first
put his hand into one pocket, then into another, and
finally took off his forefinger Stein's silver ring, which
he habitually wore, and gave it to Tamb* Itam. When
Tamb* Itam left on his mission, Brown's camp on the knoll
was dark but for a single small glow shining through the
branches of one of the trees the white men had cut down.

"Early in the evening Brown had received from Jim
a folded piece of paper on which was written, * You get
the clear road. Start as soon as your boat floats on the
morning tide. Let your men be careful. The bushes
on both sides of the creek and the stockade at the mouth
are full of well-armed men. You would have no chance,
but I don't believe you want bloodshed.' Brown read
it, tore the paper into small pieces, and, turning to
Cornelius, who had brought it, said jeeringly, * Good-
bye, my excellent friend.' Cornelius had been in the
fort, and had been sneaking around Jim's house during
the afternoon. Jim chose him to carry the note be-
cause he could speak English, was known to Brown, and
was not likely to be shot by some nervous mistake of
one of the men as a Malay, approaching in the dusk,
perhaps might have been.

LORD JIM S97

" Cornelius didn't go away after delivering the paper.
Brown was sitting up over a tiny fire; all the others were
lying down. *I could tell you something you would
like to know,* Cornelius mumbled crossly. Brown paid
no attention. *You did not kill him,* went on the
other, *and what do you get for it? You might have
had money from the Rajah, besides the loot of all the
Bugis houses, and now you get nothing.* *You had
better clear out from here,* growled Brown, without
even looking at him. But Cornelius let himself drop
by his side and began to whisper very fast, touching his
elbow from time to time. What he had to say made
Brown sit up at first, with a curse. He had simply
informed him of Dain Waris*s armed party down the
river. At first Brown saw himself completely sold and
betrayed, but a moment*s reflection convinced him that
there could be no treachery intended. He said nothing,
and after a while Cornelius remarked, in a tone of
complete indifiFerence, that there was another way out
of the river which he knew very well. *A good thing
to know, too,* said Brown, pricking up his ears; and
Cornelius began to talk of what went on in town and
repeated all that had been said in council, gossiping in
an even undertone at Brown*s ear as you talk amongst
sleeping men you do not wish to wake. *He thinks he
has made me harmless, does he?* mumbled Brown
very low. . . . *Yes. He is a fool. A little child.
He came here.and robbed fiie,* droned on Cornelius,
'and he made all the people believe him. But if some-
thing happened that they did not believe him any more,
where would he be? And the Bugis Dain who is wait-
ing for you down the river there, captain, is the very
man who chased you up here when you first came.*
Brown observed nonchalantly that it would be just as
well to avoid him, and with the same detached, musing

S98 LORD JIM

air Cornelius declared himself acquainted with a back-
water broad enough to take Brown's boat past Waris's
camp. 'You will have to be quiet/ he said as an after-
thought» 'for in one place we pass close behind his camp.
Very close. They are camped ashore with their boat
haule4tup.' 'Oh, we know how to be as quiet as mice;
never fear/ said Brown. Cornelius stipulated that in
case he were to pilot Brown out, his canoe should be
towed. 'I'llliave to get back quick/ he explained.

''It was two hours before the dawn when word was
passed to the stockade from outlying watchers that the
white robbers were coming down to their boat. In a
very short time every armed man from one end of
Patusan to the other was on the alert, yet the banks of
^ the river remained so silent that but for the fires burn-
ing with sudden blurred flares the town might have
been asleep as if in peace-time. A heavy mist lay very
low on the water, making a sort of illusive grey light
that showed nothing. When Brown's long-boat glided
out of the creek into the river, Jim was standing on the
low point of land before the Rajah's stockade — on the
very spot where for the first time he put his foot on
Patusan shore. A shadow loomed up, moving in the
greyness, solitary, very bulky, and yet constantly elud-
ing the eye. A murmur of low talking came out of it.
Brown at the tiller heard Jim speak calmly: 'A clear
froad. You had better trust to the current while the fog
lasts; but this will lift presently.' 'Yf^juPiesentljus:^
^all see dear/ replied Brown.

' "The thirty or forty men standing with muskets at
ready outside the stockade held their breath. The
Bugis owner of the prau, whom I saw on Stein's veran-
dah, and who was amongst them, told me that the boat,
shaving the low point close, seemed for a moment to
grow big and hang over it like a mountain. 'If you

LORD JIM 300

think it worth your while to wait a day outside,' called
out Jim, *ni try to send you down something —
bullock, some yams — what I can/ The shadow went
on moving. ^Yes. Do,' said a voice, blank and
muffled out of the fog. Not one of the many attentive
listeners understood what the words meant; aiit then
Brown and his men in their boat floated away, fading
spectrally without the slightest sound.

"Thus Brown, invisible in the mist^'goes out of
Patusan elbow to elbow with Cornelius in the stem-
sheets of the long-boat. 'Perhaps you shall get a small
bullock,' said Cornelius. *0h, yes. Bullook. Yam.
You'll get it if A^ said so. He always speaks the truth.
He stole everything I had. I suppose you like a small a..
bullock better than the loot of many houses.' 'I would 9
advise you to hold your tongue, or somebody here may
fling you overboard into this damned fog,' said Brown.
The boat seemed to be standing still; nothing could be
seen, not even the river alongside, only the water-dust
flew and trickled, condensed, down their beards and
faces. It was weird. Brown told me. Every individual
man of them felt as though he were adrift alone in a
boat, haunted by an almost imperceptible suspicion of
sighing, muttering ghosts. * Throw me out, would you?
But I would know where I was,' mumbled Cornelius,
surlily. *I've lived many years here.' *Not long
enough to see through a fog like this,' Brown said, lolling
back with his arm swinging to and fro on the useless
tiller. *Yes. Long enough for that,' snarled Corne-
lius. * That's very useful,' commented Brown. *Am
I to believe you could find that backway you spoke of
blindfold, like this ? ' Cornelius grunted. * Are you too
tired to row?' he asked after a silence. *No, by God!'
shouted Brown suddenly. *Out with your oars there.'
There was a great knocking in the fog, which after a

400 LORD JIM

while settled into a regular grind of invisible sweeps
against invisible thole-pins. Otherwise nothing was
changed, and but for the slight splash of a dipped blade
it was like rowing a balloon car in a cloud, said Brown.
Thereafter Cornelius did not open his lips except to ask
querulously for somebody to bale out his canoe, which
was towing behind the long-boat. Gradually the fog
whitened and became luminous ahead. To the left
Brown saw a darkness as though he had been looking
at the back of the departing night. All at once a big
bough covered with leaves appeared above his head, and
ends of twigs, dripping and still, curved slenderly close
alongside. Cornelius, without a word, took the tiller
from his hand.''

h.

"^^^^ CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

"I don't think they spoke together again. The boat
entered a narrow by-channel» where it was pushed by
the oar-blades set into crumbling banks, and there was
a gloom as if enormous black wings had been outspread
above the mist that filled its depth to the summits of the
trees. The branches overhead showered big drops
through the gloomy fog. At a mutter from Cornelius,
Brown ordered his men to load. 'I'll give you a chance
to get even with them before we're done, you dismal
cripples, you/ he said to his gang. 'Mind you don't
throw it away — ^you hounds.* Low growls answered
that speech. Cornelius showed much fussy concern for
the saiety of his canoe.

''Meantime Tamb' Itam had reached the end of his
journey. The fog had delayed him a little, but he had
paddled steadily, keeping in touch with the south bank.
By-and-by daylight came like a glow in a ground glass
globe. The shores made on each side of the river a
dark smudge, in which one could detect hints of colum-
nar forms and shadows of twisted branches high up.
The mist was still thick on the water, but a good watch
was being kept, for as Tamb' Itam approached the camp
the figures of two men emerged out of the white vapour,
and voices spoke to him boisterously. He answered,
and presently a canoe lay alongside, and he exchanged
news with the paddlers. All was well. The trouble
was over. Then the men in the canoe let go their grip
on the side of his dug-out and incontinently fell out of
sight. He pursued his way till he heard voices coming

401

402 LORD JIM

to him quietly over the water, and saw, under the now
lifting, swirling mist, the glow of many little fires burn-
ing on a sandy stretch, backed by lofty thin timber and
bushes. There again a look-out was kept, for he was
challenged. He shouted his name as the two last
sweeps of his paddle ran his canoe up on the strand. It
was a big camp. Men crouched in many knots under a
subdued murmur of early morning talk. Many thin
threads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist.
Little shelters, elevated above the ground, had been
built for the chiefs. Muskets were stacked in small
pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the
sand near the fires.

*^Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, de-
manded to be led to Dain Waris. He found the friend
of his white lord lying on a raised couch made of bam-
boo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered
with mats. Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire
was burning before his sleeping-place, which resembled
a rude shrine. The only son of Nakhoda Doramin
answered his greeting kindly. Tamb* Itam began by
handing him the ring which vouched for the truth of
the messenger's words. Dam Waris, reclinmg on his
elbow, bade him speak and tell all the news. Beginning
with the consecrated formula, *The news is good,*
Tamb' Itam delivered Jim's own words. The white
men, departing with the consent of all the chiefs, were
to be allowed to pass down the river. In answer to a
question or two Tamb* Itam then reported the pro-
ceedings of the last council. Dain Waris listened
attentively to the end, toying with the ring which
ultimately he slipped on the forefinger of his right hand.
After hearing all he had to say he dismissed Tamb'
Itam to have food and rest. Chrders for the return in
the afternoon were given immediately. Afterwards

LORD JIM 403

Dain Waris lay down again, open-eyed, while his
personal attendants were preparing his food at the fire,
by which Tamb' Itam also sat talking to the men who
lounged up to hear the latest intelligence from the town.
The sun was eating up the mist. A good watch was
kept upon the reach of the main stream where the boat
of the whites was expected to appear every moment.

"It was then that Brown took his revenge upon the
world which, after twenty years of contemptuous and
reckless bullying, refused him the tribute of a common
robber's success. It was an act of cold-blooded ferocity,
and it consoled him on his deathbed like a memory of an
indomitable defiance. Stealthily he landed his men
on the other side of the island opposite to the Bugis
camp, and led them across. After a short but quite
silent scuffle, Cornelius, who had tried to slink away
at the moment of landing, resigned himself to show the
way where the undergrowth was most sparse. Brown
held both his skinny hands together behind his back in
the grip of one vast fist, and now and then impelled him
forward with a fierce push. Cornelius remained as
mute as a fish, abject but faithful to his purpose, whose
accomplishment loomed before him dimly. At the
edge of the patch of forest Brown's men spread them-
selves out in cover and waited. The camp was plain
from end to end before their eyes, and no one looked
their way. Nobody even dreamed that the white men
could have any knowledge of the narrow channel at the
back of the island. When he judged the moment come.
Brown yelled, 'Let them have it,' and fourteen shots
rang out like one.

"Tamb' Itam told me the surprise was so great that,
except for those who fell dead or wounded, not a soul of
them moved for quite an appreciable time after the
first discharge. Then a man screamed, and after that

404 LORD JIM

scream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from
all the throats. A blind panic drove these men in a
surging swaying mob to and fro along the shore like a
herd of catUe afraid of the water. Some few jumped
into the river then, but most of them did so only after
the last discharge. Three times Brown's men fired into
the rucky Brown» the only one in view, cursing and yell-
ing, * Aim low! aim low!'

^'Tamb' Itam says that, as for him, he understood
at the first volley what had happened. Though un-
touched he fell down and lay as if dead, but with his
eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,
reclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the
open shore, just in time to receive a bullet in his fore-
head at the second discharge. Tamb' Itam saw him
fling his arms wide open before he fell. Then, he says,
a great fear came upon him — not before. The white
men retired as they had come — ^unseen.

"Thus Brown balanced his account with the evil
fortune. JNotice that even in this awful outbreak there
is a superiority as of a man who carries right — the
abstract thing — ^within the envelope of his common
desires. It was not a vulgar and treacherous massacre;
it was a lesson, a retribution — ^a demonstration of some
obscure and awful attribute of our nature which, I am
afraid, is not so very far under the surface as we like to
think.

"Afterwards the whites depart unseen by Tamb'
Itam, and seem to vanish from before men's eyes al-
together; and the schooner, too, vanishes after the
manner of stolen goods. But a story is told of a white
long-boat picked up a month later in the Indian Ocean
by a cargo-steamer. Two parched, yellow, glassy-eyed,
whispering skeletons in her recognized the authority of a
third, who declared that his name was Brown. His

LORD JIM 405

schooner, he reported, bound south with a cargo of Java
sugar, had sprung a bad leak and sank under his feet,
He and his companions were the survivors of a crew of
six. The two died on board the steamer which rescued
them. Brown lived to be seen by me, and I can testify
that he had played his part to the last.

"It seems, however, that in going away they had
neglected to cast off Cornelius's canoe. CorneUus him-
self Brown had let go at the beginning of the shooting,
with a kick for a parting benediction. Tamb' Itam,
after arising from amongst the dead, saw the Nazarene
running up and down the shore amongst the corpses and
the expiring fires. He uttered little cries. Suddenly
he rushed to the water, and made frantic efforts to get
one of the Bugis boats into the water. * Afterwards,
till he had seen me,* related Tamb' Itam, *he stood
looking at the heavy canoe and scratching his head.'
^What became of him?' I asked. Tamb' Itam, star-
ing at me, made an expressive gesture with his right
arm. * Twice I struck, Tuan,' he said. *When he be-
held me approaching he cast himself violently on the
ground and made a great outcry, kicking. He screeched
like a frightened hen till he felt the point; then he was
still, and lay staring at me while his life went out of his
eyes.'

"This done, Tamb' Itam did not tarry. He under-
stood the importance of being the first with the awful
news at the fort. There were, of course, many sur-
vivors of Dain Waris's party; but in the extremity of
panic some had swum across the river, others had
bolted into the bush. The fact is that they did not
know really who struck that blow — whether more white
robbers were not coming, whether they had not already
got hold of the whole land. They imagined themselves
to be the victims of a vast treachery, and utterly

406 LORD JIM

doomed to destruction. It is said that some small
parties did not come in till three days afterwards.
However, a few tried to make their way back to Patusan
at once, and one of the canoes that were patrolling the
river that morning was in sight of the camp at the very
moment of the attack. It is true that at first the men
in her leaped overboard and swam to the opposite bank,
but afterwards they returned to their boat and started
fearfully upstream. Of these Tamb' Itam had an
hour's advance."

CHAPTER FORTY-PIVE

^'When Tamb' Itam, paddling madly, came into
the town-reach, the women, thronging the platforms
before the houses, were looking out for the return of
Dain Waris's little fleet of boats. The town had a
festive ah*; here and there men, still with spears or guns
in their hands, could be seen moving or standing on the
shore in groups. Chinamen's shops had been opened
early; but the market-place was empty, and a sentry,
still posted at the comer of the fort, made out Tamb'
Itam, and shouted to those within. The gate was wide
open. Tamb' Itam jumped ashore and ran in head-
long. The first person he met was the girl coming dovm
from the house.

^'Tamb' Itam, disordered, panting, with trembling
lips and wild eyes, stood for a time before her as if a
sudden spell had been laid on him. Then he broke out
very quickly: *They have killed Dain Waris and many
more.' She clapped her hands, and her first words
were, ^Shut the gates.' Most of the fortmen had gone
back to their houses, but Tamb' Itam hurried on the
few who remained for their turn of duty within. The
girl stood in the middle of the courtyard while the others
ran about. * Doramin,' she cried despairingly, as Tamb'
Itam passed her. Next time he went by he answered
her thought rapidly, * Yes. But we have all the powder
in Patusan.' She caught him by the arm, and, pointing
at the house, ^ Call him out,' she whispered, trembling.

^'Tamb' Itam ran up the steps. His master was
sleeping. ^ It is I, Tamb' Itam,' he cried at the door,

407

408 LORD JIM

* with tidings that cannot wait/ He saw Jim turn over
on the pillow and open his eyes, and he burst out at once.
*Tliis, Tuan, is a day of evil, an accursed day.* His
master raised himself on his elbow to listen — ^just as
Dain Waris had done. And then Ta^b* Itam began
his tale, trying to relate the story in order, calling Dain
Waris Panglima, and saying: ' The Panglima then called
out to the chief of his own boatmen, ^"Give Tamb' Itam
something to eat ** * — ^when his master put his feet to the
ground and looked at him with such a discomposed face
that the words remained in his throat.

^^' Speak out,' said Jim. ^Is he dead?' 'May you
live long,' cried Tamb' Itam. *It was a most cruel
treachery. He ran out at the first shots and fell. . . .'
His master walked to the window and with his fist
struck at the shutter. The room was made light; and
then in a steady voice, but speaking fast, he began to
give him orders to assemble a fleet of boats for im-
mediate piu*suit, go to this man, to the other — send
messengers; and as he talked he sat down on the bed,
stooping to lace his boots hurriedly, and suddenly looked
up. *Why do you stand here?' he asked very red-
faced. * Waste no time.' Tamb' Itam did not move.

* Forgive me, Tuan, but . . . but,' he began to
stammer. 'What?' cried his master aloud, looking
terrible, leaning forward with his hands gripping the
edge of the bed. *It is not safe for thy servant to go
out amongst the people,' said Tamb' Itam, after hesi-
tatmg a moment.

**Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one
world, for a small matter of an impulsive jump, and
now the other, the work of his own hands, had fallen in
ruins upon his head. It was not safe for his servant
to go out amongst his own people! I believe that in
that very moment he had decided to defy the disaster

LORD JIM 401»

in the only way it occurred to him such a disaster could
be defied; but all I know is that» without a word, he
came out of his room and sat before the long table, at
the head of which he was accustomed to regulate the
affairs of his world, proclaiming daily the truth that
surely lived in his heart. The dark powers should
not rob him twice of his peace. He sat like a stone
figure. Tamb' Itam, deferential, hinted at prepara-
tions for defence. The girl he loved came in and spoke
to him, but he made a sign with his hand, and she was
awed by the dumb appeal for silence in it. She went
out on the verandah and sat on the threshold, as if to
guard him with her body from dangers outside.

"What thoughts passed through his head — ^what
memories? Who can tell? Everything was gone, and
he who had been once unfaithful to his trust had lost
again all men's confidence. It was then, I believe, he
tried to write — ^to somebody — ^and gave it up. Loneli-
ness was closing on him. People had trusted him with
their lives — only for that; and yet they could never, as
he had said, never be made to understand him. Those
without did not hear him make a sound. Later,
towards the evening, he came to the door and called for
Tamb* Itam. * Well? ' he asked. * There is much weep-
ing. Much anger, too,' said Tamb' Itam. Jim looked
up at him. *You know,' he murmured. *Yes, Tuan,'
said Tamb' Itam. *Thy servant does know, and the
gates are closed. We shall have to fight.' * Fight!
What for? ' he asked. * For our lives.' * I have no life,'
he said. Tamb' Itam heard a cry from the girl at the
door. * Who knows ? ' said Tamb' Itam. * By audacity
and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear
in men's hearts, too.' He went out, thinking vaguely
of boats and of open sea, leaving Jim and the girl to-
gether.

410 LOBD JIM

^I hftyen't tlie heart to set down here such glimpses
M she had gtven me of the hour cv mine she has passed
in there wrestling with him fcv the possession of her
hi^ipiness. Whether he had any hope — what he ez-
pected^ idiat he imagined — it is impossible to say. He
was inflezible» and with the growing kmeUness of his
obstinacy his q>irit seemed to rise above the ruins of his
existence* She cried ^Fi^t!* into his ear. She could
not understand* There was nothing to fi{^t for. He
(^ was going to prove his power ii^ another way and
eonquer the fatal destiny itself. He came out into the
courtyard^ and behind him, with streaming hair, wild
of face, breathless, she staggered out and leaned on the
side of the doorway. ^Open the gates,' he ordered.
Afterwards, turning to those of his men who were in-
side, he gave them leave to depart to their homes. *For
how long, Tuan? ' asked one of them timidly. *For all
life,' he said, in a sombre tone.

'^A hush had fallen upon the town after the out-
burst of wailing and lamentation that had swept over
the river, like a gust of wind from the opened abode of
sorrow. But rumours flew in whispers, filling the hearts
with consternation and horrible doubts. The robbers
were coming back, bringing many others with them, in a
great ship, and there would be no refuge in the land for
any one. A sense of utter insecurity as during an earth-
quake pervaded the minds of men, who whispered their
suspicions, looking at each other as if in the presence of
some awful portent.

**The sun was sinking towards the forests when Dain
Waris's body was brought into Doramin's campong.
Four men carried it in, covered decently with a white
sheet which the old mother had sent out down to the
gate to meet her son on his return. They laid him at
Doramin's feet, and the old man sat still for a long time.

■^

\

LORD JIM 411

one hand on each knee» looking down. The fronds of
pahns swayed gently, and the foliage of fruit-trees
stirred above his head. Every single man of his people
was there, fully armed, when the old nakhoda at last
raised his eyes. He moved them slowly over the crowd,
as if seeking for a missing face. Again his chin sank on
his breast. The whispers of many men mingled with
the slight rustling of the leaves.

"'The Malay who had brought Tamb' Itam and the
girl to Samarang was there, too. 'Not so angry as
many,' he said to me, but struck with a great awe and
wonder at the 'suddenness of men's fate, which hangs
over their heads like a cloud charged with thunder.'
He told me that when Dain Waris's body was uncovered
at a sign of Doramin's, he whom they often called the
white lord's friend was disclosed lying unchanged with
his eyelids a little open as if about to wake. Doramin
leaned forward a little more, like one looking for some-
thing fallen on the ground. His eyes searched the body
from its feet to its head, for the wound maybe. It was
in the forehead and small; and there was no word
spoken while one of the bystanders, stooping, took off
the silver ring from the cold stiff hand. In silence he
held it up before Doramin. A murmur of dismay and
horror ran through the crowd at the sight of that
familiar token. The old nakhoda stared at it, and
suddenly let out one great fierce cry, deep from the
chest, a roar of pain and fury, as mighty as the bellow
of a wounded bull, bringing great fear into men's hearts,
by the magnitude of his anger and his sorrow that could
be plainly discerned without words. There was a great
stillness afterwards for a space, while the body was
being borne aside by four men. They laid it down
under a tree, and on the instant, with one long shriek,
all the women of the household began to wail together;

412

LORD JIM

they mourned with shrill cries; the sun was setting, and
in the intervals of screamed lamentations the high sing-
song voices of two old men intoning the Koran chanted
alone.

*^ About this time Jim, leaning on a gun-carriage,
looked at the river, and turned his back on the house;
and the girl, in the doorway, panting as if she had run
herself to a standstill, was looking at him across the
yard. Tamb' Itam stood not far from his master, wait-
ing patiently for what might happen. All at once Jim,
who seemed to be lost in quiet thought, turned to him
and said, ^Time to finish this.'

"*Tuan?* said Tamb* Itam, advancing with alacrity.
He did not know what his master meant, but as soon
as Jim made a movement the girl started, too, and
walked down into the open space. It seems that no one
else of the people of the house was in sight. She tottered
slightly, and about half-way down called out to Jim,
who had apparently resumed his peaceful contempla-
tion of the river. He turned round, setting his back
against the gun. 'Will you fight?* she cried. * There
is nothing to fight for,* he said; * nothing is lost.* Say-
ing this he made a step towards her. * Will you fly? * she
cried again. * There is no escape,* he said, stopping
short, and she stood still also, silent, devouring him
with her eyes. *And you shall go?' she said, slowly.
He bent his head. *Ah!' she exclaimed, peering at him
as it were, *you are mad or false. Do you remember
the night I prayed you to leave me, and you said that
you could not? That it was impossible! Impossible!
Do you remember you said you would never leave me?
Why? I asked you for no promise. You promised
unasked — remember.* 'Enough, poor girl,* he said.
*I should not be worth having.*

**Tamb* Itam said that while they were talking she

LORD JIM 413

would laugh loud and senselessly like one under the
visitation of God. His master put his hands to his
head. He was fully dressed as for every day, but with-
out a hat. She stopped laughing suddenly, ^For the
last time,* she cried, menacingly, * will you defend your-
self?* ^Nothing can touch me,* he said in a last flicker
of superb egoism. Tamb* Itam saw her lean forward
where she stood, open her arms, and run at him swiftly.
She flung herself upon his breast and clasped him round
the neck.

*^^ Ah! but I shall hold thee thus/ she cried. . . •
*Thou art mine!*

"She sobbed on his shoulder. The sky over Patusan
was blood-red, immense, streaming like an open vein.
An enormous sun nestled crimson amongst the tree-
tops, and the forest below had a black and forbidding
face.

"Tamb* Itam tells me that on that evening the
aspect of the heavens was angry and frightful. I may
well believe it, for I know that on that very day a
cyclone passed within sixty miles of the coast, though
there was hardly more than a languid stir of air in the
place.

"Suddenly Tamb* Itam saw Jim catch her arms,
trying to unclasp her hands. She hung on them with
her head fallen back; her hair touched the ground.
* Come here ! * his master called, and Tamb* Itam helped
to ease her down. It was diflicult to separate her
fingers. Jim, bending over her, looked earnestly upon
her face, and all at once ran to the landing-stage.
Tamb* Itam followed him, but turning his head, he saw
that she had struggled up to her feet. She ran after
them a few steps, then fell down heavily on her knees.
'Tuan! Tuan!* called Tamb* Itam, 'look back;* but
Jim was already in a canoe, standing up paddle in hand.

V

414 LORD JIM

He did not look back. Tamb' Itam had just time to
scramble in after him when the canoe floated clear.
The girl was then on her knees, with clasped hands, at
the water-gate. She remained thus for a time in a sup-
plicating attitude before she sprang up. 'You are
false!' she screamed out after Jim. 'Forgive me/ he
cried. 'Never! Never!* she called back.

"Tamb* Itam took the paddle from Jim's hands, it
being unseemly that he should sit while his lord paddled.
When they reached the other shore his master forbade
him to come any farther; but Tamb' Itam did follow
him at a distance, walking up the slope to Doramin's
campong.

"It was beginning to grow dark. Torches twinkled
here and there. Those they met seemed awestruck,
and stood aside hastily to let Jim pass. The wailing
of women came from above. The courtyard was full
of armed Bugis with their followers, and of Patusan
people.

''I do not know what this gathering really meant.
Were these preparations for war, or for vengeance, or to
repulse a threatened invasion? Many days elapsed
before the people had ceased to look out, quaking, for
the return of the white men with long beards and in
rags, whose exact relation to their own white man they
could never understand. Even for those simple minds
poor Jim remains under a cloud.

''Doramin, alone, immense and desolate, sat in his
arm-chair with the pair of flintlock pistols on his knees,
faced by an armed throng. When Jim appeared, at
somebody's exclamation, all the heads turned round
together, and then the mass opened right and left, and
he walked up a lane of averted glances. Whispers
followed him; murmuril: 'He has worked all the evil.'
'He hath a charm.' • • . He heard them — perhaps!

LORD JIM 415

"When he came up into the light of torches the wail-
ing of the women ceased suddenly. Doramin did not
lift his head, and Jim stood silent before him for a time.
Then he looked to the left, and moved in that direction
with measured steps. Dain Waris's mother crouched at
the head of the body, and the grey dishevelled hair con-
cealed her face. Jim came up slowly, looked at his dead
friend, lifting the sheet, then dropp^ it without a word.
Slowly he walked back.

"^He came! He came!' was running from lip to lip,
making a murmur to which he moved. 'He hath taken
it upon his own head,' a voice said aloud. He heard
this and turned to the crowd. * Yes. Upon my head.'
A few people recoiled. Jim waited awhile before
Doramin, and then said gently, 'I am come in sorrow.'
He waited again. 'I am come ready and unarmed,' he
repeated.

"The unwieldy old man, lowering his big forehead
like an ox under a yoke, made an effort to rise, clutching
at the flintlock pistols on his knees. From his throat
came gurgling, choking, J^SSnan^nds, and his two
attendants helped him fromBeESnd. People remarked
that the ring which he had dropped on his lap fell and
rolled against the foot of the white man, and that poor
Jim glanced down at the talisman that had opened for
him the door of fame, love, and success within the wall of
forests fringed with white foam, within the coast that
under the western sun looks like the very stronghold of
the night. Doramin, struggling to keep his feet, made
with his two supporters a swaying, tottering group; his
little eyes stared with an expression of mad pain, of rage,
with a ferocious glitter, which the bystanders noticed;
and then, while Jim stood stiffened and with bared head
in the light of torches, looking him straight in the face,
he clung heavily with his left arm round the neck of a

416 LORD JIM

bowed youth, and lifting deliberately his right, shot his
son's friend through the chest.

""The crowd, which had fallen apart behind Jim as
soon as Doramin had raised his hand, rushed tumultu-
ously forward after the shot. They say that the white
man sent right and left at all those faces a proud and
unflinching glance. Tfiien with his hand over his lips
'^ ~iie fcfrf (5fw&d, dead.

c

\

''And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud,
inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, and ex-
cessively romantic. Not in the wildest days of his
boyish visions could he have seen the alluring shape of
such an extraordinary success ! For it may very well be
that in the short moment of his last proud and un-
flinching glance, he had beheld the face of that op-
portunity which, like an Eastern bride, had come veiled
to his side.

"But we can see him, an obscure conqueror of fame,
tearing himself out of the arms of a jealous love at the
sign, at the call of his exalted egoism. THe goes away
from a living woman to celebrate his pitiless wedding
mlh a shadowy ideal of conduct. ) Is he satisfied —
quite, now, I wonder? We ought to know. He is one
of us — and have I not stood up once, like an evoked
ghost, to answer for his eternal constancy? Was I so
'Very wrong after all? Now he is no more, there are
days when the reality of his existence comes to me with
an immense, with an overwhelming force; and yet upon
my honour there are moments, too, when he passes from
my eyes like a disembodied spirit astray amongst the
passions of this earth, ready to surrender himself faith-
fully to the claim of his own world of shades.

"Who knows? He is gone, inscrutable at heart, and
the poor girl is leading a sort of soundless, inert life in

LORD JIM 417

Stein's house. Stein has aged greatly of late. He
feels it himself, and says often that he is 'preparing to
leave all this; preparing to leave . . .' while he
waves his hand sadly at his butterflies/'

September lS99-^vly 1900.

THE END

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PR 6006 .04 .L6 1020
Lord Jbn.

Stanford

CI

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I 3 6105 036 491 129

\ PR
16005
;.Oi».LG
1920

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